


All's Fair in Love and War

by Rocky_T



Series: Second Chances [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dominion War (Star Trek), F/M, Section 31 (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-01-15 15:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: After 4 years in the Delta Quadrant,Voyagerhas returned home and is plunged immediately into the reality of the Dominion War.Part 3 of the “Second Chances” series, following “The Long Way Home.”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the time period between the Deep Space Nine episodes “Tears of the Prophets” (end season 6) and “Image in the Sand” (beginning of season 7). 
> 
> Many thanks to Seema and Zakhad for their suggestions, and to Seema for her usual excellent beta.

_There ain't no reason you and me should be alone _  
_Tonight yeah baby, tonight yeah baby_  
_But I got a reason that you should take me home tonight_  
_I need a man that makes it right when it's so wrong_  
_Tonight yeah baby, tonight yeah baby_  
_Right on the limits where we know we both belong tonight_  
_It's time to feel the rush to brush the dangerous_  
_I'm gonna run right to, to the edge with you_  
_Where we can both fall far in love_  
_I'm on the edge of glory and I'm hangin' on a moment of truth_  
_Out on the edge of glory and I'm hangin' on a moment with you_  
_I’m on the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge_  
_I’m on the edge of glory_  
_And I’m hangin’ on a moment with you_  
_Out on the edge with you_  
_\--Lady Gaga_

Seated at the controls of the scout ship _Homer_, Commander Justin Tighe entered a security code and waited patiently as the giant hangar doors, camouflaged to blend in perfectly with the mountainside on the small moon’s surface, opened to admit him. Almost as an afterthought, he disengaged his ship’s cloak before entering the landing bay.

As usual, the entire area bustled with activity. Tighe brought the ship to a halt in the precise spot reserved for it and breathed a sigh of relief before popping the hatch and emerging. 

A little more than a month had passed since he’d set off to the Delta Quadrant to locate _Voyager_ and bring her home, courtesy of the new quantum drive. It had been just under a week since he’d left _Voyager_ on the outskirts of the Alpha Quadrant.

“Welcome back, Tighe. How’d it go?” asked Briggs, the senior landing officer on duty, as he walked purposefully toward the _Homer_. 

Tighe glanced involuntarily toward the Primary Flight Control tower, surprised that Briggs had elected to meet him on the tarmac. Doubtless curiosity was running high among the base personnel at his return, but Tighe had no intention of discussing the details of his mission with anyone outside of the proper channels. 

“Smooth as silk,” Tighe replied, not breaking his stride as he made his way to the bay’s exit. 

“No unexpected surprises?”

“None.”

“Good to hear. Oh, the Director wants to see you right away.”

Tighe nodded briefly. “On my way.” Which was true, though he would make a small detour first. He exited the bay and headed down the corridor, acknowledging the personnel he passed and receiving their congratulations, but didn’t stop until he reached the main research lab. 

As expected, Beenay was hard at work, muttering to himself as he perused a series of equations displayed on the main screen, occasionally making additional annotations on the PADD before him. He must have heard the door open, but did not look up.

Tighe waited a few moments. At last, the Elaysian scientist acknowledged his presence. “Ah, Tighe, you’re back. How did the drive hold up?” he asked eagerly. “What can you tell me about the phase variances? Were they as large as predicted, or were you able to hold them under three percent? And were there any additional fluctuations in the wave patterns over a sustained period of time?”

Tighe bit back a smile at Beenay’s single-mindedness. Initially skeptical when Tighe had first proposed the theory behind the new quantum drive, Beenay had become its staunchest supporter during the ensuing years of development and was captivated by its potential. Tighe removed a small device from his pocket and inserted it into the console. “See for yourself. This is the raw data from _Voyager_’s flight using the quantum drive.” 

Beenay immediately began reviewing the data.

Tighe added, “The data from the _Homer_ is there as well.”

Beenay made an abortive gesture, the equivalent of a human waving his words away; under the base’s gravitation settings—0.9 that of Earth but several times that of his native world—he relied on servos to complete most bodily movements. “The drive on the _Homer_ was already thoroughly tested and its performance doubtless conformed to earlier trials. But this, this is the real test! To see how the quantum wave functioned on a much larger vessel and how the increased mass affected the number of hops per build…”

With a small smile, Tighe left him to his analysis. 

He made his way to the Director’s office, located in the base’s nerve center. The room was large, but hardly opulent; the furnishings were merely functional, and the walls were dominated by large screens tuned to various parts of the complex. A study in physical contrast with Tighe’s previous handler, Almog was bald and plump, with soft bland features that masked a very sharp intellect. Although not a scientist himself by training, as the head of this top secret Section 31 base, he was nominally in charge of the research – both theoretical as well as practical applications -- carried out by the scientists under his command.

Almog studied him in silence for a moment, then locked his computer screen and rose ponderously to his feet. “Report.”

“The _Homer_ traversed the distance to the Delta Quadrant in just over 18 hours, as predicted,” Tighe said, slipping unconsciously into parade-rest stance. “I made initial contact with _Voyager_ 8.2 days later.”

“Were they expecting you?”

“Not really,” Tighe said, with a quick shake of his head. “It turned out they _did_ detect our message’s Starfleet signature and attempted to access the alien communications array to retrieve it. However, they were only able to partially download it due to ongoing hostilities with the locals who claimed ownership of the array.”

Almog grunted. “One could argue it was a wasted effort to send the message in the first place, not to mention the blatant security risk if the locals had gotten to it first.”

Tighe bit back his response. For reasons of his own, he had been strongly in favor of giving _Voyager_—and her captain—some advance warning before he showed up. 

“So you made contact with _Voyager_. Clearly, despite encounters with the Borg and other hostiles, the ship was in better shape than we anticipated as you were able to return so quickly.”

“Thanks to the ingenuity of her chief engineer,” Tighe said with a nod. “Still, we spent the first several days refurbishing _Voyager_’s defenses and weapons, in addition to upgrading the warp engines. Even though we completed the drive installation sixteen days later—” 

Almog cut him off. “What about the flight data?”

“I already gave Beenay the recorder with the _Voyager_ data,” Tighe responded without missing a beat. He hadn’t really expected Almog to listen to a long, drawn-out recital. The Director dealt in results, not in esoteric details that were chiefly of interest to the technicians. “I assume our engineers are already swarming all over the _Homer_ and running complete diagnostics of all the major systems.” 

“I will be the first to admit I had my doubts about the feasibility, let alone the success, of the mission to the Delta Quadrant, but you’ve proved your point about the new drive,” Almog remarked mildly but his gaze never left Tighe’s face. “A formidable new tool for our side, perhaps even a game-changer in our war with the Dominion.”

Tighe met those pale eyes unflinchingly. “Thank you, sir.” Tighe knew the Director understood exactly why he had begun developing the new quantum drive shortly after _Voyager_’s disappearance four years earlier, and why he had pushed so hard for the Delta Quadrant mission. But Almog never seemed to care about Tighe’s personal motivations. He had been willing to give Tighe a lot of latitude in every aspect of the research project, in the hopes that such a gamble would pay off – which it had. And now, thanks to Almog’s foresight, the Section was in possession of the powerful new quantum drive. As far as Almog was concerned, _Voyager_’s return was almost irrelevant.

In his mind’s eye, Tighe couldn’t help contrasting how this post-mission debriefing would have gone if Chloe was still his handler. He imagined her gliding over to him, the scent of her perfume, the light brush of her hand against his face. He could hear her voice in his ear, saying, “Congratulations on the success of the new drive, and of course, rescuing _Voyager_ as well,” her tone leaving no doubt she knew exactly what his priorities were. “And did your daring actions help win you back into Kathryn’s good graces?” 

Tighe thought wryly the jury was still out on that one. He remembered all too well the mixed signals _Voyager_’s captain had given him when he’d come on board – at first keeping him at arm’s length, then a repeating cycle of moving closer followed immediately by rejection - until their final goodbye.

Back in the present, Tighe said, “I presume now we’ll be sharing the drive technology with Starfleet, putting it into production as soon as possible so it can be installed on more ships.” He made it sound as though he were only seeking information and making no presumptions about the Section’s course of action.

Almog gave a brief smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Eventually,” he said, his tone deceptively casual. 

Tighe felt his own expression harden. “_Voyager_, escorted by the _Hood_ and the _Seahawk_, will return to Sector 001 in a little under three weeks. You can’t keep something like this hidden for long. It’s fairly obvious Starfleet engineers will uncover the truth about the ‘alien tech’ behind the ship’s surprising return home as soon as they start going over the engine systems,” he pointed out. “There goes your plausible deniability.” 

“Actually, it’s our people who will be doing the examination and overhaul of _Voyager_, so we will have no trouble keeping everything under wraps a bit longer.” 

“Why does the new drive still need to remain a secret?” Tighe demanded. 

“I have plans for that ship,” Almog said cryptically. He then added, “And for you as well.”


	2. Chapter 2

"Would you care for some potatoes, B’Elanna?” Julia Paris asked politely.

Just days after their triumphant return to Earth, Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres, formerly of _Voyager_, were at the Paris home in San Francisco for dinner. Admiral Owen Paris, in full uniform, presided over the head of the table in the formal dining room, and B’Elanna wondered if he was intentionally going for the full intimidation factor, though she honestly couldn’t say which was more daunting, his rank or the fact that he was Tom’s father. Tom and B’Elanna themselves were in civvies, Tom in a shirt and slacks he used to wear on the holodeck, and B’Elanna in a sleeveless brown dress, one of the few off-duty outfits she’d replicated in the Delta Quadrant. She looked again at Tom’s mother, noting her casually elegant clothes, her perfect hair and makeup, and felt dowdy in comparison.

“Thank you,” B’Elanna said, summoning a smile that unfortunately felt more like a grimace. “I’m going to have to make some room on my plate first.” Hoping she sounded sincere, she added, “They look delicious, though.”

“I made a point of serving all Tom’s favorites,” his mother said proudly. “Pot roast, scalloped potatoes, and creamed spinach.” 

“Really? I would have expected some macaroni and cheese,” B’Elanna blurted out before she could stop herself, “or maybe pizza.” 

Julia looked disconcerted and quickly addressed her son. “If that’s what you want, dear, I can replicate some for you. I just thought you would prefer a home-cooked meal after all this time.”

Tom shot a warning look at B’Elanna. “No, really, everything is fine, Mom, thanks. This is great.” To prove his point he took a large mouthful of spinach, chewed and swallowed. B’Elanna took a generous swallow of her wine.

The Admiral, who had said very little so far, concentrated on eating.

An awkward silence fell. 

To her credit, Julia tried to keep the conversation going. “It’s a pity that Kathleen and Moira weren’t able to be here tonight,” she said, referring to Tom’s sisters. “It’s just bad timing they’re both off planet now. But they send their love and said they’re looking forward to seeing you when they get back next week.”

B’Elanna searched her memory for any details about Tom’s sisters but came up blank. She thought they were older, that Tom was the baby of the family, but wasn’t entirely sure. She also tried to remember anything Tom had said about them, but she’d always had the impression they weren’t very close. When Tom had spoken about his family at all, it was almost always about his father.

“Where did they go?” Tom asked.

“They’re celebrating their in-laws’ 50th anniversary. Kathleen and Moira married two brothers,” she said by way of explanation to B’Elanna. “Of course, Moira’s wedding was six years ago and Kathleen only got married last year. It’s a pity you missed it, Tom.”

Tom shrugged. “I missed Moira’s wedding, too,” he said, in the disdainful tone B’Elanna hated, the one that made it seem as though he didn’t care about anyone or anything. “It must have been during my brief stint with the Maquis, nope, sorry, it was after I’d already been captured by Starfleet and was serving my sentence in New Zealand.”

Julia flushed uncomfortably. She looked down at her plate for a moment, and with a visible effort, tried to change the subject. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked B’Elanna.

B’Elanna gulped. “No, I’m fine. Everything is delicious.”

“I’m so glad,” Julia said, her relief palpable at B’Elanna’s words, or maybe at finding a new conversation tack, “as I didn’t really know what you liked. It was easy to prepare Tom’s favorite dishes, naturally, but I wasn’t sure I was really up to producing some Klingon cuisine…”

B’Elanna had a sudden vision of Julia trying to make _gagh_ and blood pie. Hastily, she said, “I grew up on Kessik, a Federation colony, and my father is Human, so really, all this is fine.” She glanced at Tom, willing him to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, like he had been doing all evening, he was staring daggers at his father. B’Elanna knew full well that Tom was waiting for his father to apologize, say he loved him, tell him he was glad he was back. But the Admiral didn’t seem to know how to address his son or the awkwardness between them. 

Aside from their estrangement, the fact that Tom had brought his half-Klingon, all-Maquis girlfriend home with him couldn’t be helping matters, B’Elanna knew. She wished she had protested more strongly when Tom had broached the idea of her accompanying him to visit his parents.

Perhaps Tom finally picked up on her discomfort, as he belatedly made an effort to contribute to the conversation. “How is your gardening going, Mom? Did you win any awards at the last horticulture show?”

Julia looked surprised. “I gave that up years ago, after what happened at—well, you wouldn’t know because you were away.”

“It’s hard to keep track of what he does and doesn’t know, Julia,” the Admiral said unexpectedly. “He’s been away a long time.”

“Maybe I’d know more of what was going on in the family if I’d gotten a letter in the past four years, or was it six?” Tom said sharply. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall hearing from you even before _Voyager_’s mission to the Badlands.”

Tom’s mother flushed again as she dropped her glance to her lap. 

The Admiral met his son’s gaze. “We sent you a letter when we heard _Voyager_ had been found,” he pointed out.

Tom grinned sardonically. “Unfortunately, not all the letters were successfully downloaded,” he said. 

“Are you saying you never got—” Julia broke off her sentence and exchanged a distressed look with her husband.

“What I mean is that I’d heard there was a letter for me, but I didn’t actually see it for myself.”

It was B’Elanna’s turn to flush, as she had been in charge of downloading the letters and knew all too well that it was no one’s fault, least of all Admiral Paris’s, that Tom hadn’t received one. She knew that Tom knew this as well and wished she could reach across the table right now and poke him to stop him from being such an ass. Whatever resentment he felt toward his father, B’Elanna had never thought he blamed his mother, and the poor woman really was doing her best to make this ill-advised dinner party a success.

B’Elanna said, “I think I’ll have some of the potatoes after all.” 

Julia gave her a grateful look as she passed her the bowl. “If they’re too bland…”

“It’s great to have this home-cooked meal,” Tom said to his mother, a faint note of apology in his voice. “Especially after all those years on _Voyager_, when we were stuck with Neelix’s cooking.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t _that_ bad,” Julia admonished him. “And at the very least, it kept you from starving to death.”

“As if Kathryn Janeway would let _that_ happen,” the Admiral remarked. 

“The captain did her damnedest to ensure we all survived,” Tom said, nodding. 

The conversation then turned to _Voyager_ and Janeway, and what a marvelous accomplishment it had been to keep her crew together and bring them home. Here at least Tom and his father seemed to have found some common ground.

“It’s a damn shame that Kathryn’s fiancé didn’t wait for her,” the Admiral said now. “I myself never understood what Kathryn saw in Johnson, but still, couldn’t he at least have waited for her? Instead, he married another woman after just a couple of years.”

“None of the families or loved ones had any idea what happened to _Voyager_,” Julia protested. “You can’t honestly blame the poor man for moving on with his life.”

The Admiral harrumphed by way of answer. He leaned back in his seat and picked up his wineglass, watching the liquid swirl in the glow from the chandelier overhead. “Personally, I think Kathryn never got over the breakup of her marriage, which is why she settled for Mark Johnson in the first place.” 

Tom perked up his ears at this information. “I never knew Captain Janeway was married.”

The Admiral was only too happy to fill in the details. “Their relationship began during Kathryn’s first shipboard assignment on the _Icarus_, back when she was still an ensign.” He grinned suddenly, and B’Elanna was struck by the familiarity of the twinkle in his blue eyes. “As the two of them met while serving under my command, I think I can take at least some of the credit for introducing her to Justin.”

“Justin?” Tom and B’Elanna said in unison. B’Elanna added, “You don’t mean Justin Tighe, do you? The--” she reconsidered her word choice “—uh, engineer.” 

“Yes, you must have heard of him. He was the love of her life, no doubt about it.”

B’Elanna realized the Admiral knew nothing about the extraordinary events that had led to their return home. She bit her lip, willing Tom to realize it as well and not let some stray comment slip.

The Admiral rapidly filled in the rest of the backstory on the _Icarus_—the capture of himself and Janeway by the Cardassians, and of the rescue carried out by Tighe and his strike force. “It was no surprise to anyone, after the mission was over, that Kathryn and Justin got married – I was the officiant – and they seemed to be happy, at least at first.” He paused. “Kathryn didn’t confide in me then, but I was aware that around the time of the Arias mission, years later, there was some tension between them. Probably at odds over how their careers were progressing. Kathryn was advancing rapidly through the ranks, and he couldn’t seem to keep up with her. At any rate, it wasn’t long after we returned home that the two of them divorced. But I always suspected she never got over him, and I don’t think Tighe ever forgot her, either.”

B’Elanna and Tom exchanged glances. She was thinking, and knew that he was too, that this explained a lot about what they’d witnessed between Janeway and Tighe on board _Voyager_.

Julia, who had left the room during the recital of Janeway’s love life, came back and started to clear the dishes. The Admiral remained seated, but both Tom and B’Elanna got up to help. 

Julia waved away their help. “Now, I hope you both saved room for dessert.”

***  
“Whew, am I glad that’s over,” Tom said on their way back to their Starfleet-assigned quarters. He’d rented a flitter for the occasion and relished being at the controls. “Given a choice between another intimate family dinner with just my parents, and an encounter with the Hirogen, I’m not so sure what I would pick.” 

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” B’Elanna said immediately. “I thought your mother was very nice, and she certainly did try to make me feel welcome.”

“Yeah, my mother has always been a real sweetheart.” Tom didn’t say out loud that it was his father, with his impossible expectations and standards, who was always the problem.

As if picking up on his thoughts, B’Elanna said, “Your father seemed all right. I mean, he obviously felt uncomfortable, but he’s clearly glad to have you back home.” She added, “As the evening wore on, he did seem more relaxed, especially when we started talking about Janeway’s personal life.” 

“My father absolutely adored Janeway,” Tom countered, as he banked the flitter sharply to avoid another vehicle that appeared unexpectedly in their path. “She was his prize protégée, and he was always bragging about her achievements. Sheesh, at times it was like growing up competing with yet another older sister, one I could never measure up to.” 

B’Elanna waved his words away. “Or maybe he found it easier to talk about Janeway instead of connecting with you, or,” her voice dropped so low he could hardly hear her, “dealing with me.” 

“Possibly,” Tom acknowledged. “But my father was always deeply involved in Janeway’s life, even when they weren’t serving together. He was always mentioning her accomplishments; I remember how thrilled he was to have her accompany him on the Arias expedition.” Tom paused. “And the feeling was certainly mutual. Almost the first thing Janeway said to me, when she came to New Zealand to get me to come with her to the Badlands, was that she’d served with my father.”

B’Elanna raised her brow questioningly. “The way you’re presenting it, it almost seems like there was something more than just a platonic mentoring relationship going on.”

Tom started to laugh. “As if!” He opened his mouth to say more, but then reconsidered as he thought back to his childhood, and how his mother reacted whenever his father brought up Janeway’s name in conversation. He suddenly wondered if maybe there was something to B’Elanna’s theory after all, and if that contributed to the strain that he’d always been aware of in his parents’ marriage. He inhaled sharply, cast a sidelong glance at B’Elanna and cleared his throat.

“Speaking of relationships,” Tom said carefully, “I was thinking now that we’re back in the AQ, maybe we should get married.” 

“You’re proposing _now_?” B’Elanna asked, clearly taken off balance by his comment.

Tom grinned. At least she hadn’t said no. “Why not?” he asked, keeping his tone even. “It would certainly help us get assigned to the same ship, if we decide to stay in Starfleet.”

“Why don’t we first see what Starfleet decides to do with us,” B’Elanna said, but he could see the smile playing around her mouth. 

***  
Captain Kathryn Janeway materialized on the main transporter platform at Starfleet HQ, and smiled her thanks to the ensign at the controls. Since their return a month ago, _Voyager_ had undergone a major overhaul at Utopia Planitia, and with that completed, was now back at McKinley Station, high above Earth orbit. Janeway had repeatedly asked for permission to check on the ship’s status in person and having finally secured it, she was gratified to see how well _Voyager_ looked, not just in terms of the actual systems but the general overall “feel” of the ship was a lot more “spit and polish” than it had been for years. 

All told, the signs definitely pointed toward Voyager returning to full duty status. Janeway felt her heart lift at the thought, despite being well aware this meant combat duty. It _had_ occurred to her that she might have gotten her crew home safely from the Delta Quadrant only to risk them in battle with the Dominion. But she resolutely pushed that thought from her mind and concentrated instead on the many positive aspects of their situation.

A few days earlier, the decision had come down from Starfleet Command: the _Voyager_ Maquis had received full pardons in recognition of their service, and all _Voyager_ crew who wished to stay in Starfleet would have the opportunity to do so, even given an unusual amount of latitude in requesting assignments. Janeway herself had not been officially offered the opportunity to retain command of _Voyager_—yet. She _had_ been asked on record if she wanted to have another command, and she’d jumped at the chance, as after all this time, she couldn’t imagine her life without Starfleet. 

Even before the decision became public, as soon as the debriefings had ended, Janeway had made the rounds of her crew, sounding them out as to their plans for the future. Joe Carey and Samantha Wildman had each decided to stay close to home and their families, while still expressing a desire to stay in Starfleet. Some of the former Maquis, like Kenneth Dalby, decided to resume civilian life, while others such as Michael Ayala were eager to sign on to Starfleet –any ship, he’d said, as long as it was under Janeway’s command. Janeway had been particularly gratified when Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres requested to serve under her again, as did Harry Kim. Both Torres and Kim had received promotions to full lieutenant. She still needed to touch base with Tuvok and Chakotay, both of whom had gone off-world to visit their families as soon as the post-mission debriefings concluded. She was confident Tuvok would elect to stay with her as well. Chakotay, however…she sighed, remembering how awkward the last few weeks on board the ship had been.

She’d been surprised when her first officer had openly declared his feelings for her right before the attempt to use the quantum drive to return to the Alpha Quadrant, though in retrospect she shouldn’t have been. Their professional and personal relationships had been complicated from nearly the beginning – certainly by the time they had been stranded on New Earth for three months – though the tensions had certainly deepened as the years of their journey wore on. Their disagreements about how to deal with the conflict between the Borg and Species 8472 had nearly finished them, but they had somehow muddled through and were growing closer once more. The news that Janeway’s fiancé, Mark Johnson, had moved on should have removed the final barrier to starting a personal relationship. Instead, Janeway had been affected more deeply by the news than she’d anticipated and she’d spent months licking her wounds. Then, as fate would have it, the reappearance of Justin Tighe in her life had upended everything once more.

She’d once loved Justin so deeply, but differing career goals and aspirations had driven them apart. _No_, she told herself firmly, _don’t shy away from what the real problem was_. She had never been able to reconcile her discovery of Justin’s Section 31 affiliations with the man she’d thought he was. Weakened as their relationship was after years of separations and only sporadic reunions during the course of their Starfleet careers, the Section 31 revelation had very nearly been the fatal blow to their marriage. Of course, she had inadvertently delivered the final one when she’d opted to accompany Owen Paris on the Arias mission, knowing full well how Justin would react to the news, how it would play into his insecurities where the Admiral was concerned. Janeway grimaced; she had never been fully honest with Justin that her relationship with Owen _hadn’t_ been entirely platonic. There had been an incident, well over a year into the Arias mission, when she’d attempted to comfort a newly vulnerable Owen…but both she and Owen had quickly stepped back and never mentioned it again.

At any rate, years later, Justin Tighe had been the last person she’d expected to see in the Delta Quadrant, and even more surprising was that he’d come to bring her ship back home. Always drawn to him physically, seeing him again had reawakened all her feelings for him. And when Chakotay had called her on it, she’d had to admit that a part of her had wanted to try again with Justin once they were back.  


Privately, she’d been thinking a lot about Tighe in the weeks since his abrupt departure and wondering whether he would contact her, or if she should make the first move. Their interactions on _Voyager_ hadn’t gone entirely smoothly, but she _thought_ enough of their feelings toward each other remained, enough to try at the very least. But once _Voyager_ had entered Sector 001, she’d been swept up in the excitement of their homecoming, quickly followed by the debriefings and then plans for the future. Admittedly, her courage had failed her at first, but she fully intended to contact him soon.

Janeway sighed and glanced around to get her bearings, awash as she was in a sea of gray and black uniforms. She was currently on the main concourse that connected the primary buildings at HQ – a relatively new thoroughfare which had only been in the planning stages the last time she’d been on Earth, prior to _Voyager_’s launch. The way narrowed a bit up ahead and she shifted so as not to inadvertently collide with anyone. Idly, she noticed a tall figure rapidly advancing on her right; it almost looked like—

It _was_ him. “Justin!” she called out and stopped, waiting for him to catch up.

“I see you made it back to Earth,” Tighe said with a smile as he came striding up to her. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you.” She was delighted to see him, but Starfleet protocol frowned upon any overt displays of affection between officers in a public setting, so she contented herself with an answering smile. From the way he was looking at her, she couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would have been if they had met someplace less public. “Yourself?”

“I’m good.” His comm badge beeped. “Listen, Kathryn, I’m on my way to a meeting now, but maybe we can get together for dinner later?”

Janeway nodded. “That sounds good. Maybe Luciano’s, at 20:00? I’ve heard good things about it since I’ve been back but haven’t had the opportunity to try it out yet.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Justin said, “provided we can get a reservation.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said confidently.

“Counting on your celebrity status as a returned hero to score a table?” he asked teasingly.

“Maybe.” As he started to move off, Janeway called after him, “Oh, and Justin? No uniforms tonight.” 

He grinned and waved. She stood still for a few more moments, watching until he was out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

Janeway took a sip of her Chardonnay and smiled as she saw Justin approach her table in the restaurant, enjoying the look on his face as he took in the details of the royal blue silk dress that molded to her curves in all the right places. She’d put a lot of thought into her outfit for that evening and was glad to see it paying off.

“You look amazing,” Justin said, his voice warm with admiration as he removed his leather jacket and sat down. “I don’t suppose you had this dress tucked away in your cabin on _Voyager_?”

“No, I bought it when I went shopping with Phoebe a couple of weeks ago, when she and my mom visited me in San Francisco.” She gestured to the waiter who immediately approached. “I hope you don’t mind my not waiting for you. What would you like to drink?”

“Bourbon, thanks,” Justin said. He shifted slightly in his seat and smiled as he continued studying her, his glance moving more slowly this time over her face and figure. “Tough day?” he asked casually.

“Just the usual bureaucratic wrangling,” Janeway answered, thinking of how long it had taken to get permission to visit _Voyager_. “Four years in the Delta Quadrant made me forget just how exhausting working within the hierarchy can be.”

“As opposed to going rogue?”

She smiled archly. “I’ll leave that to the professionals.”

Justin’s drink arrived. “Cheers,” he said. As he lifted his glass to her, Janeway thought he looked pretty good himself, in khaki slacks and a crew neck forest green sweater which emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and whose color really brought out his eyes. 

He smiled as he glanced around the wood-paneled room in obvious appreciation, his gaze lingering on the fireplace opposite the large open kitchen and the lit candle in an old glass wine bottle at the center of their table. “Nice place,” he said as he picked up the menu. 

“Let’s see if it lives up to its billing,” Janeway said. “Did you know the waiting list for a table is nearly a year?”

“Which makes your getting one a truly impressive feat,” he said. 

“It’s apparently one of the perks of being a returning hero,” she answered lightly. 

The waiter approached. “Are you ready to order?”

“I’d like a green salad to start,” Janeway said. She glanced at Justin. “How about you?”

“I’ll have the minestrone.” He leaned back in his seat. “What are the specials?”

They listened to the waiter’s rapid recital and placed their orders for their main dishes.

“I’m sure everyone is asking you how it feels to be back,” Justin said as he took another sip of his drink.

“Yes, they are,” she said emphatically. “To be honest, it’s getting a little wearying.”

“So,” he said with another smile. “How does it feel to be back?”

She gave him a stern look though she could feel her lips twitch. “It’s great, of course.” Janeway hastily added, “So much has changed while we were away; a lot of things seem so different. Even though we were only gone four years—”

“That’s still a substantial amount of time to be away from everything familiar,” he pointed out.

“But not as much time as it would’ve taken us to get back if it weren’t for you,” Janeway finished quietly.

“I don’t believe it would have really taken you the full 70 years,” Justin said firmly. He forestalled her objections. “You would’ve found some other way, Kathryn. I know you would have.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, trying but failing to keep her voice light, “though I’m glad we never had to put it to the test.” 

Silence fell as their appetizers arrived.

Justin clearly picked up on her tension and adroitly changed the subject. “Other than shopping and seeing your family, what have you been doing since your return home?” 

“Not much, since the debriefings were concluded,” Janeway said, toying with her salad. “Though I _have_ kept tabs on the _Voyager_ refit.” 

“Have you been to see her?”

“Yes, just this morning. I can’t tell you how good it is to see her in such good shape.” Janeway fell silent, remembering the technical hearings in which she and B’Elanna had gone over the modifications they’d made to _Voyager_ during the years in the Delta Quadrant. At the time, Janeway hadn’t voiced her surprise at not having been asked more than cursory questions about _Voyager_’s acquisition of the new drive; she’d suspected Section 31’s tentacles reached far deeper than most people knew. As she had earlier, she resolutely pushed that discomforting thought away. “Now, of course, I’m waiting to hear what Starfleet has in mind for our next act.”

Their eyes met and she dropped her glance in confusion over the intensity of Justin’s gaze. But when he spoke, his words were mild. “Any idea what that will be?” he said.

The arrival of their main courses was a welcome diversion. “The brass haven’t done more than drop a few hints so far,” Janeway said. “For example, asking if I would like another field command.” She took another sip of wine. “I’m assuming it will be a combat mission, given recent events. It makes sense to put scientific exploration on the backburner and redirect all resources toward winning the war.”

“Yes,” Justin said noncommittally. “It’s been like that for a while, even before the battle last year to retake Deep Space Nine. The loss of the station was the turning point, I think, when we realized we were in this war for the long haul.” 

“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you here,” Janeway said. “_Voyager_’s return was the top news story for a couple of weeks, mostly, I got the sense, because everyone needed something to celebrate.” She took a deep breath and concentrated on twirling her linguine around her fork. “And then came the invasion of Cardassia, and just like that, it’s back to the reality of war.”

“So you’re not disappointed at giving up the limelight so soon?” Justin said teasingly. 

Janeway smiled, glad for the break in tension. “While there _are_ advantages to having celebrity status, it will be nice to get back to normal life.” She caught herself. “Well, as normal as life ever is in Starfleet, not to mention in a war zone.”

Justin made short work of his veal parmesan. “You mentioned they asked you about another command. Any word about _Voyager_ in particular?”

“I’m meeting with Admiral Ross tomorrow, and planning on submitting my formal request then.” Janeway shook her head in bemusement. “If it was Admiral Hayes, I’d have no doubts whatsoever about being able to keep _Voyager_,” she said, thinking of her past professional relationship with the senior admiral. “But it appears that even though Hayes is still nominally the head of Fleet Operations, Ross is in charge of coordinating the war effort.”

“Yes, for a multi-front war, this division of powers was deemed the most efficient.” 

“Going strictly by what I know of his reputation, I’m fairly confident Ross will agree to my request,” Janeway said. “I’ve heard him referred to as a straight-shooter who opts for the simplest path to achieve his aims. And it _does_ make the most sense to keep an experienced captain and crew together.” Suddenly curious, she asked, “What’s your take on it? Do you think he’ll let me retain command?”

“I think Ross probably has a lot of things to take into consideration. At any rate, it’s useless to speculate; you’ll find out soon enough.” Justin motioned to the waiter. “I’d like another drink.” He turned to Janeway. “Another Chardonnay for you?”

“Yes, please.”

After the waiter left, Justin said, “What about your crew, Kathryn?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know they all have a lot of loyalty to you personally, and so I’d expect the ones who choose to remain in Starfleet will prefer to stay on _Voyager_.” He smiled. “They’d probably follow you to hell and back. In fact, they already have.”

“On more than one occasion,” Janeway agreed. “Though it’s premature, I _have_ spoken to a few of them so far. I think most will probably stay if I ask them to.” She added, fondly, “I have a lot of loyalty to them as well.” 

Their drinks arrived. “They’re a good crew, Kathryn. I’m glad I had the opportunity to get to know them a little.” 

Janeway smiled, remembering how seamlessly he’d fit in with her engineers. “You did work well together with them.”

The corner of his mouth turned down. “Well, not with everyone. I didn’t exactly hit it off with your former Borg.”

“Seven of Nine was a special case,” Janeway said, shaking her head. “For all her mature physical appearance, emotionally she’s still just a child.” Cognizant they were sitting in a very public place, she dropped her voice to a mere whisper. “Because of her Borg background, she was used to always having all the answers and so she challenged you about the drive.”

“Which was why I kicked her out of Engineering, as I have never had any tolerance for insubordination,” Justin said, with a faint smile. “Not that I would ever tell you to your face if I thought you weren’t correctly handling someone under your command.” He drained his glass. “Maybe you _did_ have a better sense about how to deal with her. You certainly did a good job with everyone else on board.”

Janeway frowned, thinking how she didn’t handle _him_ very well; she knew she’d sent him a lot of mixed signals over those few weeks, culminating in a long, passionate goodbye kiss, in full view of her senior staff. She glanced at him, suddenly realizing he was scrutinizing her very closely. “What is it? Why are you staring at me?”

“You’ve got a drop of sauce right over _there_,” he said. Reaching out, he stroked his thumb over the corner of her lips. “That’s better.”

She closed her eyes, feeling a sudden jolt at his touch.

“Speaking of _Voyager_,” Justin said, his voice warm and intimate, “Seeing you again after all these years was…it’s too bad we seemed to be at cross-purposes a lot of the time.”

Janeway tamped down her instinctive denial. “We were. As you said, it was unfortunate.” She recalled making love with him after their defeat of the Hirogen, remembered too, how she’d come to his quarters his last night on board, flush with the triumph of their successful return to the Alpha Quadrant. He’d just come out of the shower; she remembered the droplets of moisture clinging to his skin, the way his towel was slung low over his hips, the look in his eyes and husky timbre of his voice as he’d said, “I was wondering if you would drop by,” leaving no doubt as to his intentions…

And then his casual mention of his departure the next day had led her to bring up Section 31, sparking yet another fight between them, and ultimately leaving her with regret over another missed opportunity.

“That was quite a send-off you gave me in the shuttle bay,” Justin said now, as his eyes met hers once more. “It’s not like you to blend the public and private like that.” He paused. “It almost seemed like you were sending a deliberate message to...someone.” 

Janeway felt the blush rise in her cheeks, but didn’t look away. “Maybe I was.” 

He leaned closer to her. “As my ability to read you has proved to be less than stellar over the years, why don’t you spell it out for me?” Justin said softly. “So there’ll be no misunderstanding.” 

She laid her hand on his arm and met his burning gaze with one just as intense. “You and I have some unfinished business.”

***  
Kathryn keyed in the entry code to her apartment, and quickly entered with Justin immediately behind her. The smoldering looks they’d been exchanging all evening in the restaurant quickly turned into something more. He pulled her into his arms, began kissing her with slow, hot lips, his hands roving over her body. She pressed herself against him briefly, then tried to pull him toward the bedroom. Instead, he backed her up against the wall of the living room immediately opposite the front door.

With one quick motion he lifted her up, easily supporting her weight as he ground his pelvis into her, pausing only to open his trousers. She wrapped her legs around his waist, kicking off her stiletto heels, and moaned as she felt him roughly pull her thong to one side and plunge inside her. His lips grazed her shoulder and throat, then moved down to the tender skin at the top of her breasts. He thrust forward repeatedly until, writhing in ecstasy, she came, calling his name. 

He gently let her down and leaned against the wall, striving to catch his breath. With a grin, he said, “Miss me?” 

“Yes,” she answered frankly. 

He exhaled deeply, and turned to her with a look that took her breath away all over again. “I’ve missed you, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Janeway presented herself at Starfleet Headquarters for her meeting with Admiral William Ross. To her surprise, despite his position at the head of the War Office, Ross occupied one of the smaller office suites at HQ, one she recognized as having formerly belonged to Alynna Necheyev, who had given her the assignment to track down and capture Chakotay’s Maquis cell all those years ago.

Janeway had meant it when she’d told Justin she was confident of getting _Voyager_ back. But she was still taken aback by Ross’s opening statement.

“Captain Janeway, there is a top-secret mission that _Voyager_ is perfect for, considering it’s equipped with the new quantum drive,” Ross said with no preliminaries. “A mission to the Gamma Quadrant.” 

Janeway quickly surmised that Ross knew everything there was to know about how _Voyager_ got its new drive. “The Gamma Quadrant?” she said, in surprise.

“Yes,” Ross said. He paused. “Forgive me, would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Thank you,” said Janeway.

Ross motioned her to a seat, then handed her a steaming hot mug from the replicator. “Do you accept the mission, Captain?”

“To be honest,” Janeway said. “I’m a little leery of accepting, at least until I have some more information.” She took a swallow of coffee, studying him over the rim of her mug. He wasn’t much older than she was herself, she realized now, though career-wise their paths hadn’t crossed at all prior to _Voyager_’s mission to the Badlands. Although raised among the top brass and comfortable with the higher echelons of Starfleet Command, Janeway realized that the admirals she was closely acquainted with were closer to her father’s age—or Owen Paris.

“Some recent history, then,” Ross said, the worry lines in his forehead deepening. “In the past year, the war with the Dominion has sharply accelerated, and not in our favor. We’ve sustained a series of losses, including that of Betazed and other planets which may be considered the Federation’s inner line of defense, and the temporary loss of Deep Space Nine to the Dominion’s main ally in the Alpha Quadrant. We retook the station a few months ago, and began the invasion of Cardassia shortly after _Voyager_ returned.” He paused. “Ten days ago, the Bajoran wormhole disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” 

“It’s sealed and we have no way of reopening it. The result is that no ships—from either side--can enter or exit,” Ross said. He held a mug of his own but hadn’t lifted it to his lips. “Allow me to be blunt, Captain. _Voyager_ will undertake this mission, either with you in command or with someone else. The new quantum drive means the ship isn’t dependent on the wormhole like the rest of our fleet is. As far as the Dominion knows, we’re cut off from the Gamma Quadrant. Now is the perfect time for us to strike a blow in the Founders’ backyard.”

Janeway didn’t show her irritation at the thought of someone else commanding _Voyager_. “Does this mission involve an attack on their homeworld?” she asked evenly.

“No, it’s not that audacious,” Ross replied with a small smile, which was reassuring as Janeway wasn’t so sure the muscles of his face were capable of such an expression. “Our goal is to wipe out the main ketracel white facilities in the Gamma Quadrant. That drug is the only means by which the Vorta control the Jem’Hadar. If we can turn their foot soldiers against them…we could foment a rebellion against the Vorta, as well as _their_ masters.” 

Janeway weighed this statement against what she knew about the Dominion war hierarchy. The Jem’Hadar made up the bulk of the Dominion fighting forces, with each squad commanded by a Vorta, who in turn answered only to the Founders. In addition, the Cardassians had allied themselves with the Dominion, arrayed against the combined Alpha Quadrant powers consisting of the Federation, the Klingon Empire and now the Romulan Star Empire. 

To be honest, she had major reservations about the feasibility of this mission. She knew that Ross hadn’t told her everything, not by a long shot. However, she wanted _Voyager_. Give up this mission and see someone else in the center seat of _her_ ship? She’d see them in hell first.

“Yes,” Janeway said, forcing down her concerns. “I accept.”

Ross nodded. It may have been her imagination, but she thought he looked relieved as well. 

“Before we go any further, I’d like to know a bit more about--”

“You’ll be working with a mission specialist who will be on board, and he can provide you with more details,” Ross added.

Janeway looked at him in surprise. “When can I meet the mission specialist?”

“Right now,” Ross said. He pressed a contact on his desk and the door opened. “Captain Janeway, I believe you already know Commander Tighe.”

***

Kathryn kept her features carefully composed but Tighe could tell she was surprised – and less than happy – at seeing him. She was silent as they moved into a conference room, but as soon as the doors closed behind Ross, leaving them effectively alone, she said, her tone slightly accusatory, “You could have given me a heads up about this last night.”

Tighe looked up from where he was conducting a scan of the walls and ceiling, looking for a break in the field that would indicate a surveillance device of some sort. Not finding one, he checked the scanner’s own controls once more, and then, satisfied, put it in his pocket. “No, I couldn’t,” he said. “It wasn’t my place to say. You had to be offered the mission and accept it first.” 

“All right,” Kathryn conceded. “I can understand that.” She took a seat at the long table, near the end, and looked at him expectantly. “Why don’t you lay out the mission objectives for me? Ross wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details.”

Tighe took a seat opposite her. “The Jem’Hadar are the Dominion shock troops. They’re genetically engineered to be in awe of and worship the Founders. The Vorta, on the other hand, do not enjoy such an exalted position, and ketracel white, an addictive narcotic which contains yridium bicatizine, is the only way they can control the Jem Hadar. The Jem’Hadar lack this isogenic enzyme and require frequent doses of the drug to survive. Without it, they suffer withdrawal symptoms such as pain, anxiety, loss of mental control, and then spiral into homicidal insanity. There have been several documented instances where the Jem’Hadar have killed their Vorta when they’ve run out of white.” 

Kathryn bit her lip as she considered his words. “Would the Jem’Hadar turn on the Founders themselves in the throes of withdrawal?” 

The corner of his mouth turned down. “Probably not.”

Kathryn leaned back in her chair. “Then what would we accomplish by having them kill the Vorta? What benefit would that give?” She gave him an appraising look. “Do you think the Founders can’t control the Jem’Hadar – or their empire - by themselves?”

Tighe rose and began to pace, having the sudden urge to move. “No. But the Founders, for the most part, stay on their planet. With few exceptions, they don’t leave, as they don’t want to have to mix with solids, as they call us.”

“The exceptions being the changeling spies?” Kathryn added, “I’ve read up on the infiltrations on Earth itself by changelings posing as members of Starfleet, as well as high ranking Klingon officers.” 

Tighe nodded. “The Female Founder, for lack of anything else to call her – she’s the head of their ruling body - leaves the homeworld on occasion as well. She also doesn’t travel alone, is always accompanied by a squad of Jem’Hadar, which, as usual, is under the command of a Vorta.” He gave Kathryn a sidelong glance. “The Vorta in this particular case is the direct Dominion representative to the Cardassian Empire.”

“I see.”

“The point is, if we take away their buffer, not to mention the bulk of their armies, maybe the Founders won’t be so quick to interfere in the affairs of other species, particularly in the Alpha Quadrant.” 

“Is Starfleet willing to abandon its colonies in the Gamma Quadrant?” Kathryn asked. “As I recall, at the time of the initial contact with the Dominion, a number of Federation colonies had already been established. What about the lives of those colonists?”

Tighe was silent for a moment. “Unfortunately, those colonies were early casualties of the war.” He went on, “Without ketracel white, the Vorta won’t be able to control the Jem’Hadar. This will reduce the number of vessels the Dominion can field and therefore, the threat they present.”

“We’ll still have the Cardassian fleet to contend with,” Kathryn pointed out. “This mission won’t end the war.”

“No, but it could have severe consequences for the Dominion if we _are_ successful,” Tighe said immediately. “Don’t discount the psychological factor of bringing the fight to the Founders on their own turf. Especially with the wormhole sealed, they won’t be expecting this move from us.” He took out a data rod and inserted it into the console, then looked at her expectantly.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Show me exactly what this mission entails.”

He manipulated the star map as he spoke. “This is the Loralian system. According to our intelligence, it houses the main ketracel white-facility in the Gamma Quadrant. To be clear, this is the actual _manufacturing_ facility. There are other distribution centers in numerous locations in the Gamma Quadrant as well as the Alpha, but this is where it’s produced. As you can see, it’s located 30 light years from the Founders’ homeworld.”

“At warp 9, it would take only a week to cover that distance,” Kathryn noted. “Not as isolated as you might like if you’re hoping to get in and out without attracting any unfriendly attention.”

“This facility is also only three light years away from the main Jem’Hadar breeding colonies.” At Kathryn’s questioning look, he added, “Unlike the Vorta who are cloned as adults, the Jem’Hadar are bred, albeit artificially. They mature rapidly, attaining their full physical size and capabilities in only a few weeks. This gives them a tremendous advantage in numbers, being able to rapidly expand their fighting forces in just a brief period of time.”

“Surely the Dominion also has manufacturing facilities for ketracel white in the Alpha Quadrant,” Kathryn said. “They run the risk of too elongated a supply-line otherwise, particularly as the wormhole being sealed affects the Dominion forces on this side.”

Tighe made an adjustment to the map. “Early on in the war, Starfleet Intelligence discovered the location of a ketracel-white facility in Cardassian space near a dark-matter nebula. It was used for storage and distribution only, as near as we could tell.”

“What happened to it?”

“The facility as well as the asteroid it was built on were destroyed,” Tighe said flatly.

“That was more than a year ago,” Kathryn said. “And they’ve built no others since then?”

“We have preliminary evidence that a new facility is being established somewhere in Sector 507,” Tighe admitted. “Again, for storage purposes only.” He did not mention the destruction of the tri-nucleic fungi on Kabrel I had removed the possibility of the Dominion being able to manufacture white in the Alpha Quadrant. “The point is, wiping out the manufacturing capability in the Gamma Quadrant will strike a very important blow against the Dominion.”

Kathryn was silent as she studied the map. She swung around to face him. “Tell me this: is this a Starfleet mission, or is it under Section 31 auspices?”

He kept his face neutral. “Didn’t Admiral Ross offer it to you?”

“Are you saying Starfleet officers are never involved in Section operations?” she challenged him.

“Touché,” Tighe answered. “But you can take this mission at face value as I’ve presented it.” He added, “It was my understanding that you already accepted.”

“I did.”

Tighe met her gaze. “But you aren’t happy about it.” _Or my involvement_, he added silently to himself.

“I will concede it is necessary.” Kathryn exhaled forcefully. “Though there are a lot of gray areas I’m not sure about. The Jem’Hadar are a sentient species, and what you’re proposing will leave them to suffer unbearably in the throes of a withdrawal genetically imposed upon them.” 

“By the Dominion,” Tighe shot back. “Who have shown little regard for their welfare, or for the welfare of the Alpha Quadrant species they’re fighting against. What do you think will happen if the Dominion wins this war?”

Kathryn rose to her feet. “I said I concede the necessity and I did accept this mission,” she snapped. “Forgive me for having some compassion for some of the _other_ victims of this war.” 

“The Jem’Hadar are soldiers, not civilians,” Tighe said, striving not to show his incredulousness at her words. Did she not realize the Federation was facing an existential threat, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the initial Borg invasion nearly a decade earlier? “They’re not innocent victims.”

She passed her hand over her face wearily. “I haven’t had enough time to come up to speed on a lot of the details and history of the whole Dominion War, but I trust Ross and his judgement.” 

He kept his expression neutral though her point was very clear: she didn’t trust _him_. Aloud, he said, “Good.”

“I just want to make one thing very clear,” Kathryn said bluntly as her gaze met his. “It may be your mission, Justin, but it’s my ship, and I will not allow you to unnecessarily jeopardize the lives of my crew.” 

“Agreed,” he said, without batting an eye. “As long as you realize I will do everything in my power to ensure the mission’s success – no matter what the cost.”


	5. Chapter 5

Janeway walked into the Night Owl, a café located a short distance from HQ and popular with Starfleet personnel. She scanned the room rapidly and saw Chakotay already seated at a table. She noticed that he was wearing civilian clothing, a long tan tunic and matching trousers, decorated with some esoteric symbols. She herself, of course, was in uniform.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she approached. “My meeting with Admiral Ross ran longer than expected.” She debated giving him a quick hug in greeting but decided against it. She hadn’t seen Chakotay in over a month, since the end of the official Starfleet debriefings following _Voyager_’s return, and there was no denying things had been stilted between them since his declaration of love right before their return to the Alpha Quadrant. Although Chakotay had outwardly displayed a professional demeanor throughout the debriefings, she knew she’d hurt him deeply by her rejection. 

To cover the awkward moment, she sat down quickly and began to peruse the menu.

“That’s all right,” Chakotay said. He took a sip of his tea. “I imagine you’ve got a lot of demands on your time these days.” 

She opened her mouth to reply but then quickly tapped her order into the menu screen. The waitress brought her a steaming hot mug a few seconds later.

“’Hot coffee, black,’” Chakotay noted with a faint smile, the first she’d seen on his face in a long time. “Some things never change.”

"You know I’ve always been a creature of habit,” she said as she picked up her coffee and inhaled the aroma prior to taking a drink. “Have you found out any more information about Dorvan?" she asked, referring to his former home.

“Only that nothing is left of the colony and the survivors have scattered,” Chakotay said with a sigh. “I was hoping to travel there, but as it’s in the midst of the DMZ with Cardassia, a visit is all but impossible.”

“And dangerous, too,” Janeway said.

“Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I was hoping the colony had been rebuilt while we were gone,” Chakotay said. “Given the current situation with the war on two fronts, against both the Dominion and Cardassia, I was clearly not being very realistic."

Janeway gently laid her hand on his arm. “It’s understandable. We were away for _years_, completely isolated from any news until just a few months ago. We had no idea what was going on in the Alpha Quadrant in all that time. You shouldn’t blame yourself for making certain assumptions.”

Chakotay shook his head. “I know. I guess I didn’t expect to return to a war zone, and it’s going to take some time to adjust to.” He sighed again. “So to answer your question, I didn’t learn anything new about Dorvan, but at least I had the opportunity to visit my cousin in Ohio and also spent some time with my sister. She’s living in New Mexico these days.”

Janeway nodded, not sure what to say.

“How is your family, Kathryn?” Chakotay said as he took a bite of his cinnamon bun.

“They’re fine,” she said. “I’m hoping to make it out to Indiana for a weekend soon, just as soon as Tom and B’Elanna set their wedding date so I can be sure there won’t be a conflict.” She gave him a quick glance. “You _do_ know that Tom proposed, right?”

“Yes, B’Elanna told me when we had lunch the other day,” Chakotay with a smile. “She asked me to give her away.”

“They asked me to officiate,” Janeway said with an answering smile. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for the two of them, that they found their way together. One of the best things that came out of our time in the Delta Quadrant.” She fell silent then, as her thoughts turned to all the losses they’d endured in the past four years as well.

Perhaps picking up on her suddenly wistful mood, Chakotay said, “Have you spoken to Mark?”

Janeway gave a quick shake of her head. “I’ve been extremely busy since we came back, and it’s hard to find the time to--” She stopped, suddenly tired of making polite excuses. “No, I haven’t called him, and he hasn’t called me. Honestly, I don’t really know what to say to him. I wish him well of course, but…”

“It’s hard, knowing he moved on,” Chakotay finished.

“Yes, it is.” She took another swallow of her coffee. “Though I suppose I _will_ contact him eventually.”

Chakotay put down his empty cup and seemed to come to a decision. “Did you hear from Tighe?” he asked abruptly.

“I ran into him at HQ last week,” Janeway answered, her tone carefully neutral despite her surprise that Chakotay had mentioned Justin. She quickly changed the subject. “Have you been keeping up with the details of _Voyager_’s overhaul? She’s been undergoing a full refit, and I’m optimistic she’ll return to active duty status very soon.”

Chakotay visibly relaxed. “There was probably no shortage of things that needed to be fixed and replaced after all those years in the Delta Quadrant,” he said.

“No, there weren’t, despite B’Elanna’s best efforts,” Janeway acknowledged. “But now...the ship is as good as new. Better, in fact.” She continued enthusiastically, “Upgraded phaser banks, a new warp core, fully upgraded defenses including ablative armor…and a whole new fleet of shuttlecraft, including one with warp capability.”

“A shuttle capable of traveling at warp speeds? Maybe I should take it out for a spin…” Chakotay said jokingly.

“With your propensity for crashing shuttles? I think not,” Janeway shot back.

The mirth faded from Chakotay’s expression as he said, “Well, it’s almost certain the Dominion will try to inflict more damage than I ever did.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a questioning look. “How do you feel about finally coming home, only to go straight to war?” 

Janeway felt the corners of her mouth turn down. “Considering the current situation in the AQ with the Dominion war, I really couldn’t expect anything else.” 

“You could be forgiven for saying you’ve had enough of constant battles, of always being in life-threatening situations, and decided to sit this one out,” he pointed out. 

She looked at him in disbelief. “I don’t see how I could do that, short of resigning from Starfleet.”

“Would that be such a bad idea?” Chakotay countered. “After what you’ve been through, no one could blame you if you just decided to walk away from it all.” 

“That would imply I’m afraid to jump back into the fray,” Janeway said. She fought down a sudden flare of anger. “Is that what you think?”

“Spirits, Kathryn, no one in their right mind would ever accuse you of being afraid,” Chakotay said quickly. He hesitated as if weighing his words before continuing, “I just want to remind you that there _is_ life outside of Starfleet.”

“That has never been an option,” she said with a continued edge to her voice, then unclenched her fists and tried to calm down. “At least, not for me. Anyway, this time will be different. It’s not going to be like it was in the DQ. _Voyager_ will not be a lone ship but part of a fleet. We’ll be fighting a war, true, but won’t be without backup.”

“Sometimes things happen in the midst of war, despite the best-laid plans. And being part of a fleet is no guarantee of safety.” Chakotay closed his eyes briefly. “I remember what it was like during the battle of Wolf 359,” he said, referring to the first Borg incursion into Sector 001. “I was the tactical officer aboard the _Saratoga_, one of over 40 ships in the Starfleet armada sent to face a single Borg cube. Unlike most of the other ships, the _Saratoga_ wasn’t totally destroyed. But we lost more than two-thirds of our crew.”

Janeway kept her face impassive. At the time of Wolf 359, she had been on a deep space mission to the Beta Quadrant and only afterward had learned of the terrible devastation that occurred, and the loss of so many Starfleet ships and officers – and friends. “The Dominion is not the Borg. Neither are the Cardassians.” She took a deep breath. “As you may have heard, I’ve retained command of _Voyager_. Starfleet has a special mission for us.”

“A _special_ mission?” Chakotay asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you mean?” He paused. “I remember, during the debriefings, one of the Admirals said something about your operating outside the chain of command for so many years. Do you think the brass doesn’t trust you to follow orders?”

“The thought did briefly cross my mind as well,” Janeway admitted. “But, no. This is a mission that _Voyager_ is uniquely suited for, based on our recent tech ‘acquisition.’” She hesitated. “This isn’t the time or place to discuss the mission parameters.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Why did you ask me to meet you here today, Kathryn?”

“Because of _Voyager_. I’m putting together the crew roster, and I want you as my first officer.” She smiled at him, fairly confident of his answer. “Will you serve with me again?”

Chakotay met her eyes squarely. “No. I can’t be your first officer, Kathryn.”

“But why?” she said in surprise. “Chakotay, we’re a good team; we work well together, we balance each other’s strengths and weaknesses. The last four years certainly proves that. You’re one of the finest officers I’ve ever served with. Why would you turn me down?”

He exhaled forcefully. “You know my reasons better than anyone.” 

Janeway’s lips tightened and she put down her empty mug with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. Considering their recent history, she’d briefly considered the possibility he might react this way, but as they _hadn’t_ crossed the line into a full-fledged relationship on _Voyager_, she’d convinced herself it wouldn’t matter. “That shouldn’t be an issue—” she started to say, then stopped when she saw his expression. “I think we’re both mature adults, Chakotay. Surely we can still work together without--”

“Then you’re surer of yourself than I am,” Chakotay said with a quick shake of his head. “I told you how I felt, and in turn you showed me very clearly where your heart was. And it wasn’t with me.” His mouth tightened. “At any rate, I’ve already turned down Starfleet’s offer of a commission.”

The news that he had resigned from Starfleet barely registered as she sought another argument which might sway him. “Chakotay, I _need_ you. Please reconsider--”

He stood, abruptly cutting off her plea. “Sorry, Kathryn, but I can’t be your consolation prize.” 

She felt her color rise at the realization that Chakotay thought Justin had spurned her, prompting her to turn to him as a second choice. She opened her mouth to correct him, but he was already gone.

Later that day, she contacted Tuvok and offered him the position of _Voyager_’s first officer.

***  
That evening, Janeway was restless, unable to settle down to anything. She mentally replayed the events of her meeting with Chakotay yet again. In retrospect, she wondered if she had really expected him to continue serving with her. The news of his resignation was startling; she’d have sooner expected to hear that Starfleet had offered him a ship of his own, as he’d achieved the rank of commander before he’d resigned to join the Maquis, and his years in the Delta Quadrant had only added to his qualifications. But instead he’d chosen to walk away from Starfleet, to walk away from _her_. 

She debated going out for dinner, but after glancing at the chronometer, decided to just stay in. She wasn’t hungry, but if she changed her mind, she could simply get something from the replicator. What she really needed to do was relax.

Kathryn set the tub to fill and began pinning up her hair prior to taking a bath. Glancing in the mirror, she was surprised to see how long her hair was, that it now reached down to her shoulders. She realized it had been nearly four months since she had last gotten it cut. She should really make an appointment at one of the upscale salons around town that a friend at HQ had recommended, she thought, and then reconsidered. Maybe she would let it grow out again, though perhaps not quite as long as it was before. 

She took a nice hot bubble bath, getting out only when the water temperature was noticeably cooler than when she’d started. She had just put on a pink silk robe and began brushing her hair when the door signal sounded.

She opened the apartment door and was not really surprised to see Justin standing there. He was wearing his leather jacket, his hands jammed deep in its pockets, his shoulders hunched together. His expression was unreadable. “I know it’s late,” he began.

With a flash of impatience, Kathryn pulled her robe tighter and said, “Why did you come here tonight? What do you want, Justin?”

“You,” he said, his voice low and intimate. She felt chills up her spine as he added, “I want you, Kathryn. And I know you want me, too.”

She stepped aside to allow him to enter, and then moved into his waiting arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Seated behind the desk in her temporary office at HQ, Janeway methodically reviewed personnel lists and duty rosters with her new first officer. _Voyager_’s relaunch was in less than three weeks, and she had much less time than that to finalize the crew roster. Admiral Ross had made several suggestions to fill many of the vacant positions, including recommendations for medical and security personnel. They would take on some of the new crewmembers during a brief stop at Deep Space Nine before setting out on their mission. Fully a third of the crew would be new to _Voyager_. 

“It will probably be easier to integrate the new crew than it was to bring the Maquis into the fold,” Janeway remarked to Tuvok, thinking about the challenges ahead.

Tuvok raised a brow, and she wondered if he was thinking of his remedial training program for the Maquis personnel in the early days of their journey. “Even under the best of circumstances, such an achievement is expected to take time,” Tuvok said. “As you know, it will not happen instantaneously.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of time.” Janeway glanced at the three gold pips on his collar that designated his new rank of commander, thinking again how Tuvok had turned out to be a good choice for XO. She was grateful for his calm demeanor, together with his patience and uncomplaining manner when confronted with a mountain of paperwork.

When she’d made him the offer, Tuvok had asked, “What about Commander Chakotay? I had expected him to remain as your first officer.”

_You and me both_, she thought. Aloud, she said, “Chakotay will not be joining us on _Voyager_.” 

Tuvok studied her for a moment but made no comment.

Despite her better judgment, Janeway found herself asking, “Are you surprised?”

“No,” Tuvok answered immediately. “I am not. In retrospect, I do not think it would be feasible for you to continue to serve together – due to the tensions between you.”

Janeway swallowed. It _was_ that apparent. 

She’d plunged into a description of the mission they would be undertaking. Toward the end of her recital, she casually mentioned, “Oh, and one other thing, Commander Tighe will be joining us as the mission specialist.”

Tuvok met her gaze, and Janeway waited for him to bring up her relationship with Justin; she’d certainly made things obvious to her senior staff by her behavior in the _Voyager_ shuttle bay. 

Instead, Tuvok’s reply surprised her. “Commander Tighe has proven himself to be more than capable in the past. His participation in this mission increases our chances of success.” He paused. “And that is another reason it is for the best that Commander Chakotay will not be on board. It will forestall certain…complications.”

Janeway felt the heat rise in her cheeks but chose not to comment.

As they continued their discussion, Janeway found herself dwelling on the covert aspect of the mission. To be honest, it was still bothering her, though she couldn’t quite figure out why. 

“Tuvok,” Janeway said now. “I never asked you this before, but when you went undercover as a member of Chakotay’s cell, how did you reconcile your code of ethics with being a spy? With what you might have to do to avoid coming under suspicion in your role as a Maquis?”

“It was for the greater good,” Tuvok said at once. Janeway grimaced involuntarily at hearing the phrase, which he immediately picked up on. “Is there a problem, Captain?”

She forced herself to relax and gave him an admittedly weak smile. “No. It’s just that I’ve heard those words before, heard them used to justify what might otherwise be considered questionable actions.”

Tuvok gave her a long look. “I noticed at the time,” he remarked at last, “that you were quite vocal in your objections to Starfleet Command to my being selected for the Maquis assignment. May I ask why?”

Janeway picked up a PADD and began scrolling through it without really focusing on the lines of text. “I was concerned about your safety.” 

“As you are aware, Captain, a career in Starfleet often means putting your life on the line.” 

“With reasonable expectations of safety, and that the risk is worth it,” she replied immediately. 

Involuntarily, Janeway recalled a long-ago comment Justin had once made about the dangers of amateurs going undercover without adequate training. It had been in response to her discovery that he was an operative for Section 31. 

_“How can you be a part of them?” she said, aghast. “I’ve heard rumors about Section 31—they’re black ops. They’re said to be behind some extremely ‘unsavory’ events, to put it mildly. Sabotage, instigating military coups, assassinations--”_

_“Because I’m **needed**,” he said. “Because I bring a skill set that is essential in many of our missions. Otherwise, you’ve got amateurs trying to do a pro’s job. And that endangers lives needlessly.” _

_To which she responded, “Don’t you see your actions are subverting the very essence of what the Federation stands for?”_

_“No, I’m **saving** the Federation. It’s often necessary for some few to get their hands dirty, for the greater good.”_

In the present, suddenly curious, Janeway said, “Tell me, Tuvok, how did you cope with the possibility, that to maintain your cover as a member of the Maquis, you might have to kill or perform acts of sabotage?” 

“You might well ask how I deal with the possibility I might have to kill during the course of my normal duties as a Starfleet officer. None of those are behaviors one would expect to come easily to a Vulcan.” 

Janeway laid down the PADD and bit back a sigh. “I’m just trying to understand,” she said, thinking again about Justin and his role in Section 31. She made a sudden decision. “Before we go any further, there’s something I need to tell you about Commander Tighe.”

Just then, the door signal sounded. Janeway touched the control and said, “Come in.”

Seven of Nine entered. “Good afternoon, Captain Janeway, Commander Tuvok.”

“Seven!” Janeway said, genuinely happy to see the former Borg. In the back of her mind she acknowledged she was also glad to put a halt to the uncomfortable direction her discussion with Tuvok had taken. “How are you?”

“I am fine, thank you,” Seven said. 

“You look well,” Janeway said, thinking it was true. Although Seven’s hair was still bound tightly in her customary upswept style, she was wearing a civilian outfit consisting of tailored blouse and slacks that looked far more natural than the skintight, specially designed coveralls she’d worn on _Voyager_. It went a long way toward softening her usual severe look. “What can I do for you?”

Seven glanced at Tuvok. “It would appear I am interrupting you.”

Tuvok rose. “Now is an opportune moment for a break,” he said. “Captain, with your permission I will excuse myself so the two of you can talk.”

Janeway nodded. “Thank you, Tuvok. Let’s resume in another hour?” 

He nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

After Tuvok left the room, Janeway turned to Seven. “I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you recently,” she said a bit apologetically. 

“I know exactly what you have been doing,” Seven said coolly. “The Doctor informed me _Voyager_ is due for a relaunch and active duty assignment.” She paused. “I want to know, Captain, why you haven’t contacted me about an assignment on board _Voyager_ like you have so many others.”

Janeway mentally kicked herself for letting this slide; she should have spoken to Seven much earlier. “There is some question about your status as far as Starfleet Command is concerned,” she began gently.

Seven raised her chin proudly. “I am a Federation citizen, through my parents, Magnus and Erin Hansen,” she pointed out. “Or do you mean because I spent 18 years as a Borg drone – and still retain many Borg implants as well as nanoprobes. Does this make me less than human in the eyes of Starfleet?”

“I won’t deny there is some anti-Borg sentiment, even in Starfleet,” Janeway said without visibly flinching. “But that’s not the only reason there is some hesitation about letting you serve. Seven, you still need a lot of guidance on how to be fully human. You were only a young girl when you were assimilated, and as you yourself just said, you spent the next 18 years as a drone, subject to the Borg hive mind. It’s been barely a year since you were separated from the Collective.”

“Then what does Starfleet propose to do with me, if they cannot trust me on board one of their vessels?”

Janeway _did_ wince this time, but sought to keep her voice level. “The suggestion was made that perhaps you should enroll as a student in the Academy. You’re only a few years older than the typical cadet.” 

“That is a ridiculous idea,” Seven objected. “How would it avail me to become a student? What benefits could I possibly gain? I already have extensive knowledge of all Starfleet science and engineering technology, not to mention that of a vast array of species that to date the Federation has not even heard of. Plus, I am very familiar with all of _Voyager_’s systems.”

“There is a lot more than academics for you to learn,” Janeway countered. “For instance, how to function in a hierarchy that is not the Borg hive mind, how to interact with your peers, follow orders, and so on. Those things are just as important for a Starfleet officer as understanding how to cold-start a warp core or reconfigure the plasma array couplings.” She hesitated briefly and then plunged resolutely ahead. “Surely I don’t have to remind you of your behavior on _Voyager_ during the preliminary tests for the new quantum drive. You disobeyed direct orders--” 

“And risked overloading the components of the new drive,” Seven interjected. “Yes, this was pointed out to me. Several times. I have apologized for my error.”

“You were in error because you thought you knew better than everyone else,” Janeway said. “You need to learn how to function within a chain of command.”

“I acknowledged my error and I apologized,” Seven said once again, as she stood rigidly at attention. “I will endeavor to do better in the future.”

_If only it were that easy_, Janeway thought to herself. It had been this incident that had made the captain question if her relatively lenient approach toward Seven’s past behavior had been correct, or if she should have demanded more from her. Aloud, she said, “Look, Seven, this stint at the Academy would only be temporary. Due to the war, training is accelerated; cadets in their third year are already assigned to active duty posts. I promise I will request you be assigned to _Voyager_ as soon as I can.”

“It was my understanding that Starfleet has given you a great deal of leeway in selecting the members of your crew,” Seven said. “If you wanted to, surely you could bring me on board now.”

“Seven, it’s not that simple.”

The young woman met her eyes and to her surprise, Janeway saw the shine of tears in Seven’s eyes. “I promise to do better, Captain,” Seven said, her voice low and resolute. “I ask you to please take a chance on me now.”

Janeway was silent for a long moment, touched by Seven’s obvious sincerity, as well as mindful of her own obligation to help the former Borg adjust to life in the AQ. She exhaled slowly. “All right, Seven. I’ll see to it that you are assigned as a _junior_ science officer on board _Voyager_. But I’m warning you, I’ll accept nothing less than your very best.”

“You will not regret this decision,” Seven assured her.

***  
Lying in bed, Kathryn watched as Justin – still naked – reached for the shorts he’d kicked off earlier, and in a smooth action, pulled them on. He rose from the bed and headed toward the bathroom, moving with a feline grace that Kathryn had always found mesmerizing.

Since learning about the upcoming mission to the Gamma Quadrant and the knowledge they would be serving together again at close quarters, the dynamic between them had shifted. Or rather, it had simply proceeded to where it was heading anyway. Though their paths crossed little by day, in the past two weeks they’d spent part of nearly every night together, usually in her apartment. Justin had always been an excellent lover, and with a knowledge born of long experience, knew exactly what she wanted, and just how to satisfy her. He hadn’t made any demands or questioned where they were going with this, leading her to think that he was fine with their relationship as it was, and didn’t want or need anything more. As for her own feelings, she had no idea what she really wanted from him; instead, she clung to the current status quo and tried not to look too far ahead.

So she was as surprised as anyone, when, as he was reached for his shirt, she put her hand on his arm to stop him. 

He turned toward her, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Stay. Don’t go,” she said simply.

He turned around to fully face her and looked at her for a long moment. “What are you asking, Kathryn?”

“I’m asking you to stay the entire night,” she answered softly. “Right now, what I want is to fall asleep in your arms and wake up to see you by my side.”

She could feel his eyes piercing her as if trying to uncover some hidden meaning. “All right,” he said at last. He lay back down beside her, and she felt the mattress shift under his weight.

She moved over and snuggled against his chest, felt his arms go around her. Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she closed her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

“You know, B’Elanna, you don’t _have_ to go through with this,” Chakotay said as they waited outside the chapel doors, his earnest expression belied by the twinkle in his eyes. “You can still change your mind.”

B’Elanna playfully slugged him on the shoulder, then looped her arm through his. “And disappoint all these people who’ve come to see a wedding?” She didn’t add that most of them had never thought she and Tom would make it past the first week of their relationship.

Chakotay laughed. “You’re right, we can’t do that.” He glanced around the hallway; they were alone. “I never thought I would say this about Tom Paris, but you’ve got a good man, B’Elanna.”

She smiled at him. “I know, Chakotay. But I’m glad to hear you say it anyway.” She took a deep breath, perhaps pushing away a sudden case of jitters. “So, are you ready to give me away?”

“I’ve been trying to give you away since the day we met, Torres,” he replied teasingly. He thought back to the fierce young woman he’d discovered aboard a freighter attacked by the Cardassians; during his attempted rescue, she’d tried to kill him, assuming he was an enemy. He marveled again at how far they’d all come since that day. “Come on, let’s get you married.”

The music – an old Terran classic called “Chapel of Love” that Tom had insisted on - started up, and Chakotay proudly escorted her through the doors of the Starfleet chapel. As one, the assembled guests – almost all wearing dress uniforms as were the bride and groom - rose to their feet. There were whistles and cheers as Chakotay and a radiant B’Elanna proceeded down the rose-petal festooned aisle, to where Tom waited with his best man, Harry Kim, by his side.

Chakotay stepped back as Tom came forth to meet his bride and lead her up the steps to the raised platform. 

Kathryn smiled broadly as she took her place in front of them. “We're gathered here today, not as Starfleet officers, but as friends and family, to celebrate the marriage of two of _Voyager_'s finest.” She paused, her eyes crinkling with humor as she gave her two crew members an affectionate look. “B'Elanna has asked me to forego the rigors of Klingon painsticks in favor of a more ‘traditional’ Terran ceremony.”

“They're saving the painsticks for the honeymoon,” Harry said loudly, eliciting laughter from the guess, but color rose in Tom’s face as B’Elanna looked down at her feet. 

“As you were, Lieutenant Kim,” the captain said sternly, but her lips twitched. “As I was saying…”

Chakotay watched her as she conducted the simple yet beautiful ceremony. Kathryn looked particularly lovely, her hair tumbling down in waves to nearly her shoulders. Not quite regulation, but none of the assembled Starfleet officers were on duty. He glanced down at his own outfit, conscious of how he stood out in his civilian suit. He couldn’t help but think it was symbolic of his own impending separation from the _Voyager_ crew. Although it was entirely his choice to leave Starfleet, he couldn’t suppress a twinge of regret that he would soon be walking an entirely separate path from all of them.

Chakotay’s attention was drawn back to the present as Tom slipped a ring on B’Elanna’s finger, and she did the same for him. 

Kathryn smiled. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Anything else she might have added was drowned out by applause.

***

At the reception, B’Elanna stood next to her husband in the Starfleet conference hall they’d reserved for the occasion. 

“The quartermaster did a nice job with the decorations,” she said, glancing around the room and nodding at the floral arrangements consisting of calla lilies and white roses held together with white satin ribbon that adorned the walls and also made up the table centerpieces. With _Voyager_ due to launch within the week, neither she nor Tom had had the time or energy to fuss over the details of the hall’s decor and she’d been relieved to leave it to Starfleet’s finest. Julia Paris _had_ hinted she’d be happy to help with the wedding details and planning, but B’Elanna – after reassuring her future mother-in-law she appreciated the gesture – had turned her down. “It doesn’t look like plain old Starfleet, yet at the same time they didn’t go overboard in the other direction.”

“Yes, can’t have it looking _too_ much like a wedding,” Harry teased as he snagged a canape off a passing waiter’s tray. 

“Just because I decided to wear my dress uniform instead of a long white gown--” began B’Elanna.

“Contrary to the old saying, it’s not the clothes that make the man – or the woman, for that matter,” Chakotay cut in. “You make a beautiful bride, no matter what you’re wearing.” The small group of friends gathered around them murmured in agreement. 

“And you did carry a bouquet,” said Sue Nicoletti. “That’s pretty traditional.”

“Speaking of traditions,” Tom said, “Some best man you turned out to be, Harry. Did you see the look on my mother’s face when you mentioned the painsticks?”

Harry had the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry, Tom, but I just couldn’t resist.”

Tom shook his head in mock dismay. “Whatever happened to the squeaky-clean ensign I met all those years ago?”

“He got promoted,” B’Elanna said. She nodded at the second pip on Harry’s collar. “Looks good on you, Starfleet.”

“I could say the same about you, Maquis.”

The conversation turned to serving together on _Voyager_ once more. B’Elanna wondered again at Chakotay’s decision to leave Starfleet. She had been shocked at the news, remembering how, after the destruction of the Caretaker’s Array, Chakotay had seemed to slip effortlessly into the role of Starfleet officer, almost as if he had never been away. She had been sure he would want to continue. Then again, she saw the way his eyes followed Janeway as she left the room, and it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. 

“You know, Chakotay,” B’Elanna said now, “I’m really going to miss you.” She took a sip of champagne to ease the sudden dryness in her throat. “I never would have predicted that of the two of us, I’d be the one staying in Starfleet, and as chief engineer of a starship when I didn’t even finish the Academy.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Chakotay admonished her. “I’ve never doubted that you’re truly capable, and worthy, of your position.” He gave her a warm embrace and then gave one to Tom as well. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to go. I wish you both a lot of happiness. Good luck in your future endeavors.” 

“The same to you--” B’Elanna started to say, but he was already gone.

***

Janeway was enjoying herself at the reception, truly glad to see how happy B’Elanna and Tom were and touched by the fact that the entire _Voyager_ crew was in attendance, even the ones that weren’t going to be part of the ship’s continuing mission. Nearby, Joe and Annie Carey were laughing and chatting with Sue Nicoletti and the Delaney sisters. Naomi Wildman, clutching her father’s hands as her mother looked on fondly, was demonstrating to Seven and the Doctor how the skirt of her dress flared out when she twirled. Tom’s sisters were out on the dance floor with their husbands as the band played a slow waltz, but most people stood around talking in small groups. It suddenly occurred to Janeway, that other than the Paris family and a few significant others such as Sam Wildman’s husband and Joe Carey’s wife, all the guests had served aboard _Voyager_. 

The band struck up a livelier tune and the dancing started in earnest. Suddenly feeling the need to get some air, Janeway excused herself from a conversation with Tuvok and Neelix, in which the Talaxian was regaling them with stories of his dining experiences in San Francisco as well as his plans to open his own restaurant, and stepped out onto the terrace. She looked at the starry expanse of the sky above and breathed in the cool air gratefully.

When she’d mentioned the wedding to Justin a few days earlier, Janeway had been careful to say that she was sure B’Elanna would love to have him attend as well. “I know B’Elanna feels very close to you after all the time you spent together in engineering, particularly during the Hirogen battle and while working on the quantum drive.” 

But Justin had demurred. “This event is just for your crew. I don’t want to intrude.” 

She’d accepted his decision with equanimity, belatedly realizing that if he _had_ accompanied her, it would have been akin to making a public statement about their relationship; only Chakotay knew that she had slept with Tighe on _Voyager_, but the entire senior staff had witnessed their goodbye kiss and she was sure the news had spread like wildfire. Add the fact that Tighe was going to be on board for the new mission…From the way Chakotay had been watching her all evening, she knew he was still hurting from her rejection. She could only imagine his reaction if he saw her and Justin together at the wedding. 

But now, she found herself feeling Justin’s absence keenly.

Watching the lights on the bay, she questioned if she was falling for him again. While she was grateful for his getting them home and was certainly enjoying the physical aspects of their current relationship, she’d already made the mistake once of assuming he was someone he was not. _It would be so easy to fall in love with him again._ But the real question was, as before, who he really was, deep down, and could she trust her heart to him again. 

The click of the door to the terrace made her raise her head sharply. Backlit as he was by the light spilling from the hall, it took her a moment to recognize Owen Paris. 

“Kathryn, I’m so glad I caught you,” the Admiral said, taking her hands in his. “We haven’t had a chance to really talk since you’ve been back.” His eyes met hers intently, and he didn’t relinquish his grasp. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Janeway gave a perfunctory smile. “No, I’ve just been very busy, that’s all.” She looked around, but they were alone. “Where’s Julia?”

"She’s dancing with the groom." Owen forestalled her next comment. "Despite the absence of a father - or mother, for that matter - the bride doesn't seem to lack for eager partners."

Janeway bit back a sigh. She knew B'Elanna's mother, Miral, was living on the Klingon homeworld with her brother's family; Karoq was a mid-level officer in the Klingon fleet. Due to the wartime conditions, Miral had been unable to travel to Earth on such short notice. As for her father, John Torres had abandoned his wife and daughter when B'Elanna was very young; Janeway didn’t know if B'Elanna had even been in contact with him since _Voyager_'s return. In the face of these absences, Janeway was very grateful B’Elanna was surrounded by her “other” family – the crew of _Voyager_. 

Janeway turned back to her contemplation of the bay, her movement causing Owen to finally let go of her hands. He observed her for a moment in silence. “It’s like old times seeing you again, Kathryn.” 

“And at what better occasion than a wedding?” Janeway said with another smile, this one more genuine. “Tom and B’Elanna are both very special to me. I feel so privileged to be a part of their celebration.”

Owen smiled as well and leaned forward, his elbows on the railing. “There’s definitely something special about marrying one of your officers.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “I remember how I felt officiating at your wedding to Tighe all those years ago.” 

Janeway stiffened and then forced herself to relax. “I wish Tom and B’Elanna all the happiness in the world, they certainly deserve it. I’m so very glad they both elected to serve with me again.”

“Ah, yes, your new mission,” Owen said, a questioning note in his voice. “I haven’t heard very much about it. Would you care to fill me in on some of the details?” 

“Oh, it’s a combat mission, there really isn’t much to tell,” Janeway said, keeping her voice non-committal. At his expectant look, she added, “I’m sorry, I can’t reveal anything further.”

Owen didn’t bother to hide his disappointment. Janeway realized Owen, who used to always be in the thick of things, privy to information pertaining to the upper echelons of the Starfleet brass, must have been shunted off to the sidelines in recent years. His next words confirmed her suspicions.

His voice carried a faint trace of bitterness. “In other words, information of that sort is available strictly on a need-to-know basis, and that clearly no longer applies to me.” Owen exhaled heavily. “It’s because of the increasing focus on the war. Mark my words, Kathryn, things have changed in recent years, and it’s not the same Starfleet you once knew. Instead of concentrating on discovery, our leaders seem more interested in battles. Instead of striving to solve our problems at the negotiating table, our diplomacy is conducted via warship.”

Janeway bit back the words that the Dominion didn’t seem interested in a peaceful resolution to the conflict.

Owen went on, “I just hope that after the war is over, we can go back to a greater emphasis on exploration and scientific pursuits, and not military goals.”

Janeway frowned. Owen had seen this war unfold from the beginning; surely he knew just how bad things were – she herself had been back less than two months and the more she learned, the more disturbed she was by how the Federation and its allies were faring against the Dominion. Despite her initial reluctance regarding the Gamma Quadrant mission, she was well aware that there were times when you needed to strike a decisive blow against the enemy. “I hardly need to remind you of all people that one of Starfleet’s roles is to protect the Federation,” she said quietly.

Owen gave her a look, reminiscent of a superior officer staring down a recruit who had overstepped her bounds. “Yes, but at what cost?”

Changing the subject, she said, “Both Tom and B’Elanna have come such a long way since I first met them.” She went on to glowingly describe what Tom had accomplished in the last four years, and what a valuable member of the crew he was. She finished with, “Your son is an exemplary officer, Owen. You should be very proud of him.”

Owen shrugged. “I suppose. He certainly had a lot to make up for.” 

Janeway looked at him, astonished at what he’d said. It was painfully clear Tom had yet to achieve redemption in his father’s eyes. “You’ve always been too hard on your son, Owen,” she said bluntly. “I’m not saying he didn’t sometimes fall short of your standards. But he’s worked very hard, and I think you are _long_ overdue in accepting him as he is now.” She paused. “You’ve been given a second chance with him, Owen. Don’t throw it away.”

Owen raised an eyebrow but was silent. “I’ll take your words under consideration,” he said at last.

Janeway nodded and gazed into the distance. Far off, a light – probably a ship – made its way around the sweep of the bay.

“By the way, Kathryn,” Owen said suddenly, “I heard Mark Johnson got married not too long ago. I’m sorry.” 

Janeway closed her eyes for a moment. “It was for the best,” she said quietly. “Given the uncertainty about _Voyager_’s fate, I’m glad he made the decision to go on with his life.” Seeing Owen was about to say something else, she quickly added, “I met Mark for coffee the other day. He seems very happy and content with his life.”

“I don’t want to downplay the end of your relationship, Kathryn,” Owen said, giving her another searching look. “But I always thought Mark was just a rebound for you - after the end of your marriage.” 

Janeway thought ruefully one might also say the same about her current dalliance with Tighe. She suddenly wondered if Owen was aware of the role Tighe played in bringing _Voyager_ home – or that the two of them were together once more. She quickly decided he probably didn’t, as Owen doubtless would have said something if he _did_ know. 

Owen chose that moment to say, “Speaking of Tighe, I contacted him when _Voyager_ was first lost. Had a hell of a time getting a hold of him, as he was apparently involved in something hush-hush at the time. At any rate, I told him he had to do his best to find you.”

Janeway stared at him in surprise. “Why ever would you do that?”

“I was convinced the Cardassians were behind _Voyager_’s disappearance, and if so, Section 31 would already be planning a rescue,” Owen said with a meaningful look, no doubt alluding to Justin’s rescue of them from the prison on Urtea II so many years earlier. “No one could have predicted that instead you’d been swept off to the opposite ends of the galaxy, 70 thousand light years away.” Owen shook his head. “It’s truly amazing you were able to return home in a little over four years.” He paused. “You know, I’d love to learn more about the new drive you and your crew developed.”

_I’m sure you would_, Janeway thought. Aloud, she said, “I think we should probably rejoin the festivities. I think the toasts are going to be starting soon, and I know you don’t want to miss them.”

Without waiting for a reply, she brushed past him and went back inside.

Alone in her apartment later that night, Janeway thought back to Owen’s comments about Tighe. She suddenly remembered a remark from one of the technicians working on the upgrade of the quantum drive, that Tighe had started working on its development almost as soon as _Voyager_ was lost – more than a year before the Federation had first made contact with the Dominion. She frowned. It was impossible for him to have known what happened to _Voyager_ – or was it? Who knew how far Section 31’s reach extended? Regardless, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he had set out with the intent of bringing her ship – and her – back home. She couldn’t help but wonder what this meant in terms of how he felt about her. 

And more importantly, how she felt about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discerning readers may notice a similarity to the ceremony described here with the one from "Course: Oblivian."


	8. Chapter 8

“We’re approaching Deep Space Nine,” Paris reported from the helm. Moments later, the station appeared on the main viewscreen as a tiny dot that rapidly grew larger until the distinctive features of the Cardassian architecture were revealed.

“Thank you, Mr. Paris,” Janeway said. She rose from the captain’s chair and turned to Kim, who was manning Ops. “Lieutenant, open a channel.” At his nod, she continued, “This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS _Voyager_.”

The viewscreen display shifted to show the interior of the station command center. A woman wearing a red Bajoran militia uniform said, “Colonel Kira Nerys speaking. Welcome to the station, Captain. We’ve been expecting you and are transmitting docking instructions to you now.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Janeway said.

“Will any of your crew be coming aboard the station?” asked Kira.

“Not at this time,” Janeway replied. “We’re only here to pick up some of our new medical and security personnel. Our total stay will be approximately six hours.”

“Understood. Kira out.”

Paris couldn’t help but smile as he recalled the last time _Voyager_ had docked at Deep Space Nine – and an incident involving a green ensign and an unscrupulous Ferengi bartender. He cast a quick look over his shoulder at the Operations station, but Harry resolutely kept his head down and his gaze focused on his console. “Docking instructions received, Captain,” the freshly minted lieutenant said stiffly.

Paris immediately accessed the data and made the necessary adjustments to the ship’s heading. A moment later, Janeway said, “Take us in, Lieutenant Paris.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Paris laid in the course and then glanced around the bridge once more. Even though it had been a week since they’d left Earth, he still hadn’t gotten used to how crowded the bridge looked, with every station manned. The lean skeleton crews of the Delta Quadrant years had been consigned to the past. Janeway occupied the center seat, of course, with Tuvok at her left. Admiral William Ross, who had accompanied them from Earth to Deep Space Nine, was seated at the ancillary station toward the rear of the bridge, where visiting dignitaries were often situated. Ayala was at Tactical, Harry at Operations, and he himself was at the helm. Commander Hareven, a recent addition to the senior staff, was at the science station, and Ensign Jor manned the engineering console. B’Elanna, as chief engineer, was down in Engineering. _Just like old times_. Paris quickly amended that thought as he acknowledged Chakotay’s absence. It felt strange not to see him at Janeway’s side; Paris wondered how the captain felt about that. 

Admiral Ross rose from his seat. “Thanks for the ride, Captain.”

“Our pleasure, Admiral,” Janeway said. “We hope to see you again in a few weeks.”

“Good luck on your mission,” Ross said and exited the bridge.

“All hands, this is the captain,” Janeway said. “We have arrived at Deep Space Nine to take on our new crew members. As our stay will be quite short, no one is authorized to leave the ship.” She turned to Kim. “Coordinate the transports with station personnel.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Tuvok said, “Considering we only left Earth 7.3 days ago, I highly doubt any of the crew is in need of shore leave at this time.”

Janeway smiled as she sat down once more. “The last time _Voyager_ embarked on a mission from Deep Space Nine, our actual stay wasn’t much longer, but we did allow any crew who wished to visit the station.” She lowered her voice before she continued. “But this time…”

“Due the sensitivity of our mission, it would not be advisable,” Tuvok said so quietly that Paris could barely hear him. “I believe the expression is ‘loose lips sink ships.’”

“Not that I expect our crew to intentionally let certain details slip out in interactions with the station personnel, but Admiral Ross made a point of mentioning there are a lot of people passing through Deep Space Nine these days, including a Romulan contingent,” Janeway said even more quietly. She rose and began walking briskly toward the Ready Room. In her normal speaking voice, she said, “Mr. Paris, after we leave the station, set a course for the Badlands. Commander Hareven, get the latest sensor data and help plot the most direct route.”

“We’re not using the new drive?” Paris asked in surprise.

“According to our mission specialist, it’s best if we put a bit of distance between ourselves and the area surrounding Deep Space Nine first.” 

Paris nodded as understanding dawned; the existence of the quantum drive was obviously still classified. “At maximum warp, it will take us between two and three weeks to traverse the Badlands.”

“Understood,” the captain replied.

“We’ve begun transferring personnel,” Kim said now. Paris suddenly recalled another change – Janeway had mentioned Ross balked at the idea of the EMH serving as their sole medical provider and said he had an officer in mind to share the duties. A smile spread across Tom’s face as he realized his days as a medical assistant on board the ship were over.

***

Dr. Julian Bashir, on temporary assignment from Deep Space Nine, beamed aboard _Voyager_. After exchanging a few pleasantries with the officer on transporter duty, he picked up his bag and made his way to his assigned quarters to drop off his belongings before reporting to Sickbay. 

Truth be told, Bashir wasn’t thrilled to be there. He’d left Deep Space Nine in a state of controlled chaos; Captain Sisko, his commanding officer, had taken a sudden leave of absence following the recent Dominion attack on the station, and one of his closest friends had been grievously wounded and was back on Trill recuperating. As if things couldn’t get worse, the wormhole was now sealed, the Orbs dark. His Bajoran friends were all deeply concerned about being cut off from the Prophets. And now, when his friends and colleagues needed him the most, he was leaving them all behind at Ross’s behest. He’d been ordered to take a post on a ship setting off on a covert mission to the Gamma Quadrant – a mission for which Ross assured him he was 'uniquely' suited. No, Bashir was definitely not happy. 

He left his quarters and proceeded to the turbolift. The doors opened and Bashir got in. “Sickbay,” he said and then belatedly realized he wasn’t alone. “Commander Tighe,” he said, straightening up and acknowledging the other man’s presence.

The tall dark-haired man, wearing a regular black and gray Starfleet uniform, betrayed no surprise at being recognized. “And you are?”

“Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer.” The corners of Bashir’s mouth turned down. “I had a feeling this mission was not as simple as I was told. Seeing you here confirms my suspicions.” 

Tighe raised a questioning brow. “What do you mean?”

“What else am I to make of the presence aboard this vessel of one of Section 31’s top agents - you’re a legend, Commander. I’ve heard stories about your exploits from people who served with you in the field.”

“You’re not a fan, I take it,” Tighe said.

“I’m not a fan of the underhanded dealings the Section specializes in,” Bashir retorted. “I speak from personal experience.”

“Things are rarely as black and white as they may seem, Doctor,” Tighe said levelly. “Don’t paint us all with the same brush based on your own very limited experience with the Section.” 

“Thank you, but I’ll reserve judgment until I see evidence to the contrary.”

“Computer, halt ‘lift,” Tighe said. Bashir opened his mouth to object, but Tighe outranked him. He resigned himself to staying put until the commander had a chance to say whatever was on his mind. 

“So,” Tighe said in a conversational tone, “how did you get mixed up with Section 31? Your involvement seems at odds with your righteous indignation – and the squeaky-clean image you project.” He leaned casually against the wall of the ‘lift and folded his arms across his chest.

“I was first approached by Section 31 a little over a year ago,” Bashir said briefly.

“This would be shortly after the news of your genetic enhancements became public?”

Bashir was momentarily taken aback. He’d had the sneaking suspicion that Tighe knew far more about him than he was letting on and now that too had been confirmed. “Yes. One of your operatives staged an elaborate deception to test my loyalties, accusing me of being a mole recruited by the Dominion when I was incarcerated in Internment Camp 371.” He looked down and saw his hands were clenched into fists. Forcing himself to relax, he said, “Sloan subsequently offered me a position, which I declined.”

Tighe smiled faintly. “Sloan, eh? I remember him as a low-level flunky. Apparently, he’s since come up in the world.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

Tighe said, “Computer, resume ‘lift. I wouldn’t want to delay your taking up your new duties, Doctor.”

Bashir exited the turbolift in a huff and headed to Sickbay. Only later did he realize that Tighe hadn’t denied his allegations.

***

The EMH was in his element as he oversaw the new medical staff in Sickbay. Four nurses and two med-techs had come on board before _Voyager_ left Earth, and a physician assistant and ship’s counselor were due to join them at Deep Space Nine. Now, he was putting the new personnel through their paces, making sure they all knew _exactly_ how he liked the instruments and medical supplies stored, as well as how to set up the bio-beds and other equipment. 

“Nurse Houlihan, have you finished recalibrating the main diagnostic sensors?”

“Yes, Doctor,” said Houlihan, a brisk woman in her forties. She’d just completed a rotation at Starfleet Medical and had already demonstrated her competence in carrying out orders efficiently. “As soon as the sterilization cycle is complete, I’ll finish setting up the surgical bay.”

The doors to Sickbay opened and a young male lieutenant entered. “Ah,” the Doctor said, as he looked up to greet the new arrival. “You must be the new physician assistant. You certainly took your time getting here; the transporter room notified me you beamed aboard a little under an hour ago. Well, I assume this tardiness will not be carried over when you begin your first shift! As you will immediately learn, I run a tight ship.”

“I beg your pardon?” the lieutenant said, with a frown.

The Doctor waved his hand. “No need to apologize,” he said airily. “Just make sure you’re not late again.” He glanced down at a PADD. “What did you say your name was?”

“_Doctor_ Julian Bashir,” the lieutenant said slowly, clearly emphasizing the title at the beginning of his name. “Chief Medical Officer of _Voyager_.”

“There must be some mistake,” the Doctor said, allowing a note of testiness to creep into his own voice. “_I_ am _Voyager_’s Chief Medical Officer.”

“You’re a hologram,” Bashir said, stating the obvious. “One of the early Mark I models, I believe, designed to run for a maximum of 1,500 hours; I heard you were pressed into near-continuous operation when the entire medical staff, including the ship’s doctor, died when _Voyager_ was pulled into the Delta Quadrant.”

The Doctor drew himself up to his full height. “How I started my service is of no importance. What’s important is that I am, and have been, the Chief Medical Officer on board _Voyager_ for more than four years. _Voyager_’s return has not changed my status in any way. In fact, Starfleet confirmed the status and ranks of all of Captain Janeway’s crew well before our relaunch.”

Bashir said, “I was assigned to _Voyager_ at the request of Admiral William Ross.”

“Yes, as a physician assistant, according to what I have written here.” The Doctor flourished his PADD in Bashir’s direction.

Bashir made no move to take it. “And _my_ orders are to serve as chief of medical personnel.” He proffered a PADD of his own.

“This is _my_ Sickbay,” the Doctor said, his ire rising. “If you think you can come and pull rank simply because you are human--”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” interrupted Bashir. “A flesh and blood physician is clearly superior to one made of photonic energy--”

“You should know I possess the medical knowledge of every member world in the Federation, including more than five million surgical procedures. Specifically, my database contains the collective information of two thousand medical references and the experiences of 47 individual medical officers – that’s fifty million gigaquads of computer memory, which is considerably more than most highly developed humanoid brains.” The Doctor suddenly realized that Nurse Houlihan was most likely a silent witness to this uncomfortable scene. Feeling abashed, he glanced around and was relieved to discover that she and the rest of the medical staff had vanished, leaving him and Bashir alone in the main medical bay. In a marginally calmer tone, he continued, “I have operated as sole practitioner, responsible for the health and well-being of the entire crew and have done so much more efficiently than a mere humanoid could ever hope to—”

“Well, whatever else you are, I can see that you’re as unpleasant and egotistical as Zimmerman himself,” Bashir snapped. Under his breath, he muttered, “Clearly, the man put too much of his own personality in his holo creations.” Bashir took a deep breath and then resumed speaking in what was clearly meant to be a conciliatory tone. “Look, all Starfleet medical bays and installations are equipped with emergency medical holograms, but their use is usually just reserved for emergency situations, such as what happened with _Voyager_.”

“As you will learn, I’m not like those other EMH models.”

“Yes, you’re a much older model, as you were commissioned more than--” 

“Are you implying I’m obsolete?” the Doctor demanded. “I met one of those new Mark IV holograms on board the _Prometheus_ several months ago, when I was sent via an alien communication array to contact Starfleet. You’ll be happy to know that the most recent EMH model is nothing but a pale imitation of the grand original.” He gave Bashir a withering look. “You’re not needed here, _Doctor_. I have far exceeded my original programming and can manage just fine as the sole physician, especially now that _Voyager_ has a full medical support staff on board.” 

Bashir threw up his hands. “Look, _Doctor_, I already have a post at Deep Space Nine and am not looking to replace you on a permanent basis. Admiral Ross insisted that I be assigned to _Voyager_ for the duration of this mission. If you want to call yourself the Chief Medical Officer, I have no objection. But I predict you will be very grateful I’m here before all is said and done.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a young ensign. Her blue turtleneck identified her as a member of the medical staff. She was not very tall and had bright blue eyes that contrasted pleasantly with her short dark hair. A pattern of spots clearly visible all the way around her hairline proclaimed her Trill heritage.

“May I help you, Ensign?” the EMH said, striding forward with Bashir at his heels. “Are you in need of medical assistance?”

“No, I don’t need any help, in fact I’m here to help you, or the crew at any rate though if you made an appointment as well I’m sure I could fit you in,” she said in a rush. At their puzzled looks, she went on, “I’m the new ship’s counselor, Ensign Ezri Tigan, and I’ve just been assigned here by Admiral Ross. I was on board the _Destiny_ when it was ambushed in the latest attack and Lieutenant Sanger, who was supposed to be the chief counselor for _Voyager_, well, she was wounded, and they needed someone to take her place so I was selected even though technically I haven’t finished my probationary period yet, though I _am_ fully accredited. And I’m really excited to be on board _Voyager_ as I’ve heard so much about your adventures and I’m eager to help the crew adjust after their experiences in the Delta Quadrant and getting used to being home again, especially as they’re being sent right back into action. In our introductory sessions, I plan to sound each of them out on how they feel now going to war in what they had considered as the ultimate safe place prior to their return. Because if they’re nervous or upset, they’re not going to be able to do their jobs properly which is why it’s so important to have a counselor on board, so here I am!”

She delivered her speech in one continuous stream without giving either of her listeners a chance to get a word in edgewise, or even stopping to take a breath herself. The Doctor glanced at Bashir and saw his mouth open in an expression of utter amazement. He suspected his own face bore a similar look. He couldn’t help but wonder just what Admiral Ross had been thinking when he’d assigned this child to serve aboard _Voyager_.

“Well, uh, welcome aboard, Ensign. I hope you enjoy your stay here. I’m the _Voyager_ Doctor, and this--” he cleared his throat “—is my assistant, Doctor Julian Bashir.”

Ezri said, “Yes, I know, I recognized you both right away. I did a lot of reading up on the ship and its crew complement as soon as I heard I was being assigned here, and I’m so excited to meet you both!” She tugged at a strap on her shoulder, and the Doctor saw a large duffle bag swing forward, nearly knocking her off balance. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to go drop my bag in my cabin and then I’ll be back because I want to get to work right away! Thank you so much, both of you, and I’ll see you soon!”

The Sickbay doors closed behind her. The Doctor stared after the departed ensign, his enmity toward Bashir temporarily shelved. “Yeah, good luck with all that, Ensign.”

“She’s certainly got her work cut out for her,” Bashir agreed.


	9. Chapter 9

Tighe touched a control, and the obscuring force field shimmered into non-existence, revealing a ten-meter deep alcove that until now had been hidden by a seemingly solid bulkhead. “This,” he said while gesturing at the newly revealed equipment and control consoles, “is the key to our mission’s success, or, if you prefer, our secret weapon.”

“It’s a cloaking device,” said Torres. As Chief Engineer, she’d helped Tighe with the installation prior to their launch from Earth and had been given a thorough grounding in its principles and practical applications. But the existence of the device on board _Voyager_ was news to most of the others in their small group, comprised of the captain, first officer, head of ops, head of security, and head of the science division. The main Engineering bay had been cleared of all non-essential personnel, and none of the remaining crew was in ear-shot.

Michael Ayala, the new chief of security, whistled. “A cloaking device? I’ve never even seen a ship with one of those before!”

Torres bit back a smile. Ayala hadn’t been present when Tighe’s ship, the _Homer_, had left _Voyager_ on the outskirts of the Alpha Quadrant and promptly vanished from their sensors, presumably utilizing a cloak of its own.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “As you are surely aware, Commander Tighe,” the former security chief and current first officer said, “a cloaking device is defensive in nature, not offensive, although the possession of one can certainly bestow an offensive advantage.”

“Exactly,” said Tighe. “And it will allow us to get close enough to our target without revealing our presence to the Dominion.”

“They’ll know we’re there soon enough, once we begin firing on their installation,” Kim commented. “Unless we can fire our weapons and still remain cloaked?”

Tighe smiled. “No. This is a more advanced type of cloaking technology, but some of the same limitations still apply.” He began entering commands into a nearby console and the overhead monitor lit up and displayed data regarding the range, power consumption, and phasing intervals. “The standard cloaking device selectively bends light, and other forms of energy, to render a starship or other object completely invisible to the electromagnetic spectrum and most sensors. The Klingons used gravitational bending to cloak their vessels during the Klingon-Federation war of the last century.” He looked up for a moment to make sure they understood. “The phasing cloaking device, which is what we have here, ‘phases’ the structure of matter and energy to allow a vessel to pass through normal matter while in the phased state. In other words, we not only will _appear_ to be invisible, for all intents and purposes we really will be.”

“What are the limitations?” Commander Hareven asked. His pure white hair and beard was at odds with his seemingly youthful face but his deep brown eyes, slightly larger than a human’s, bespoke his years of experience in Starfleet.

Tighe nodded at Torres, clearly expecting her to answer. “We can’t keep the cloak in continuous operation for more than eighteen hours. Any longer, and we risk being unable to maintain structural stability on the sub-atomic level,” she said. “In addition, the ship will be consuming energy at a rapid rate, which means we need to be careful not to overload the plasma relays while using the cloak. If we lose too many at once, it could disrupt major ship functions such as navigation and life support.”

“You’re absolutely sure we can’t be detected?” Ayala said, taking a step closer to see the board configuration more clearly. 

“A cloaked Romulan vessel can be detected if you scan for tachyon emissions,” Hareven said thoughtfully. “Presumably the phasing technology doesn’t have the same vulnerability.”

“That’s right,” Tighe answered. “But a quantum beacon can be used to track a phase-cloaked vessel, if someone knows it’s there and what energy signatures to look for. And as mentioned earlier, we can’t fire weapons while we’re cloaked, as the energy discharges will disrupt the field.”

The captain, who had been silent until now, said, “What about the Treaty of Algeron, the accord the Federation signed with the Romulans after the Tomed Incident nearly a century ago?” She added, unnecessarily, “The treaty forbids us from developing or deploying cloaking technology.” Janeway paused and directed her next words solely at Tighe. “Or is this phasing cloaking device of Romulan origin, and installed with their blessing?” 

“The terms of the treaty are not so cut and dried,” Tighe said. “Careful study of its particulars indicates some ambiguous areas that can be exploited.” He met her eyes levelly. “And no, this particular technology was developed under… Starfleet auspices.”

Torres wondered at the odd turn of phrase Tighe used. It seemed to mean something to the captain, who stiffened almost imperceptibly. 

“The _Defiant_, which is assigned to Deep Space Nine, utilizes a cloaking device by agreement with the Romulans,” Tuvok noted. “There are certain stipulations to its use, for example, that it can only be operated in the Gamma Quadrant. Therefore, if we abide by the same limitation, we would still be technically within the letter of the Treaty.”

“I’ve heard the _Defiant_ has used its cloak in some of the battles in the Chin'toka sector,” Hareven said quietly. “And that’s definitely Alpha Quadrant territory.”

“The earlier stipulations were in force before the Romulans officially became our allies against the Dominion. It would be in all our best interests now to broaden the terms of use,” Kim put in. 

The captain didn’t look entirely convinced. Her mouth tightened and her hands were on her hips, body language that B’Elanna had learned over the years meant Janeway disagreed with the subject at hand but wasn’t ready to voice her displeasure.

Tighe entered another series of commands, and the monitor went dark as the console shut down. He touched another control and the alcove disappeared once more behind the bulkhead. Torres shook her head, still finding it hard to believe how completely the cloaking device was concealed. Even without the force field, due to the recent modifications to the main Engineering bay during the _Voyager_ refit, this small, out of the way area was easily overlooked.

The group made their way back to the main Engineering section. 

“Of all the changes we’ve had to get used to since being back in the AQ, the alliance with Romulans surprises me the most,” Ayala muttered to Torres under his breath. “You’ve got to wonder why they decided to throw in their lot with us, what they’re _really_ after. Are we sure the Romulans can be trusted?”

Tuvok’s excellent Vulcan hearing picked up his comment. “So far, the Romulans’ actions have borne out their words.”

“There’s an old saying, ‘When someone shows you who they really are, believe them,’” Ayala said darkly. “The Romulans have shown themselves to be treacherous in the past. Just like the Cardassians.” 

“Yes, it would be prudent to remain cautious,” Tuvok said. “But lest you forget, Lieutenant, all the powers in the Alpha and Beta quadrants are currently threatened by a common enemy.”

“Which makes the cloaking device a necessity,” Kim said.

“If it’s any comfort, I don’t plan to deploy the cloak in the Alpha Quadrant,” Tighe said dryly. “That’s the reason we’re traveling through the Badlands right now – it provides cover from both friendly and unfriendly eyes.” 

Once again, he and Janeway exchanged glances. Torres wondered what was being communicated wordlessly. Finally, Janeway nodded, though she did not seem happy.

“All right, those still on duty, back to your stations,” the captain said crisply. “The rest of you are dismissed.”

***

Later that evening, in the captain’s quarters, Tighe helped Kathryn clean up after their meal. Her apprehensions during the earlier discussion about the cloaking device hadn’t escaped him; she was obviously unhappy, though she hadn’t yet voiced anything out loud.

“You’ve been very quiet all through dinner, in fact, ever since we left Engineering,” he said finally. “It seems like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Kathryn shut the door to the recycler with a bit more force than necessary. “Your powers of deductive reasoning are as sharp as ever.” 

“Instead of snapping at me, why don’t you just tell me what’s bothering you, Kathryn?” he said, with a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Is this about the cloaking device?”

She nodded tersely. “For one thing, you could have told me about it before _Voyager_’s launch, instead of letting me find out days later, at the same time as most of my senior staff.”

“I needed Torres’ help for the installation,” he said quietly. “So yes, I told her about it before you. As Chief Engineer--”

“The cloaking device itself isn’t the problem, or at least it’s only a symptom,” Kathryn said, her lips tightening in disapproval.

“Then what is it that has you so hot and bothered?” he demanded. “Explain it to me.”

She brushed past him on her way to the viewport and gazed out at the seemingly endless plasma streams and eddies of the Badlands. With her back turned to him, she said, “Because it’s always just one more thing with you, one more exception, chipping away at the solid veneer of right and wrong, to the point where the _next_ moral compromise is even easier to make.” She took a deep breath. “And then what? Where do you draw the line, Justin? When does it all stop?”

He joined her at the viewport, his reflection a dark silhouette on the transparent steel surface. Kathryn’s ongoing opposition, on principle, to anything related to Section 31 continued to rankle. “And if this particular compromise means the difference between life and death?”

Her chin went up sharply. “I’m not stupid, Justin. I know what’s involved and can appreciate what the stakes are here. That cloaking device may very well be all that prevents this trip to the Gamma Quadrant from becoming a suicide mission.” She took a deep breath. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No,” he said. “You don’t.” He moved closer and put his arms around her, bent down and pressed his lips to the back of her neck, sliding the rest of the way down to the curve of her shoulder. “But at the very least, you’ll learn if you can live with it.”

She shivered at the feel of his warm breath on her skin. “Yes,” she said. “I will.”

***  
As a section of the force field shimmered away to admit the visitors’ shuttle, Chakotay noted with surprise the Auckland prison grounds were quite lovely. The 600-square kilometers of the complex – nearly the size of a small city - seemed to consist largely of rolling green meadows. Extensive flower beds surrounded the buildings, and the graveled walkways were lined by trees on either side. It was easy to forget this was in fact a Federation medium security prison. Overhead, the force field formed a dome, impervious to transporter beams, that allowed light to enter but obscured the blue of the sky. 

The shuttle rolled to a stop outside the main administration building. Chakotay disembarked with the others and waited in line at the security checkpoint.

“Name?” said the security guard.

“Chakotay.”

The guard tapped a control pad and studied the display. “Name of the prisoner you’re here to see?”

“Svetlana Korepanova.”

The guard indicated a small screen to Chakotay’s left. “Please face the monitor and keep both eyes open for a minimum of three seconds.”

“Is this a retinal scan?” Chakotay asked.

The guard ignored his question, and said, brusquely, “Please face the monitor and keep both eyes open for a minimum of three seconds.”

Biting back a comment about the guard’s rudeness, Chakotay complied.

Without looking up, the guard said, “You may proceed to Visitation Section 4845-C on this level. The prisoner will meet you there.”

Chakotay opened his mouth to ask another question, but the guard had already turned to the next person in line.

The signs were very clear, and Chakotay found the correct location without any difficulty. The Visitation Section was a large, glass-walled atrium with benches and chairs arranged in small groups. The large double doors led to a tiled patio. Beyond that, he could see a copse of trees at the far end of the green lawn. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

Once the excitement over _Voyager_’s return had died down – and _Voyager_ herself had set out on a new mission – Chakotay found himself drifting aimlessly. He didn’t regret his decision to leave Starfleet; that chapter of his life was over, but as the days passed, he’d become increasingly aware that he needed something to fill the void. He reflected again on the destruction of his homeworld which set him off on his path to the Maquis, and the blow of learning his former compatriots were nearly wiped out during the war. Sveta, the old Academy friend who had originally recruited him to the Maquis, had been the one to write him and tell him the news. Her note had been brief, stating just the bare facts about the massacre and the news that the few survivors were in Federation prison.

Lost in thought, he missed hearing her approach. 

“Chakotay,” she said. Her voice was rougher than it had been years earlier; in his mind’s eye, he had a sudden image of her cradling and singing softly to a young Bajoran child she’d found in the ruins of a warehouse. The woman who stood before him now in a gray prison jumpsuit bore little resemblance to the one in his memory. Her long dark hair was cut short, her face was lined, and her eyes that had once sparkled with life even under dire circumstances were now haunted. 

“Sveta,” he said, rising to his feet. He’d meant to embrace her, but her body language was guarded, withdrawn. “It’s good to see you.”

“I’m surprised you came out here,” she said. 

“I received your letter,” Chakotay said. “The one you wrote me while I was still on _Voyager_—”

“I heard you are a model Starfleet officer now,” she said abruptly, her gaze rapidly moving over his face and figure. “Where’s your uniform?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he’d turned down the offer of a commission. Instead, he found himself saying, “Are you accusing me of selling out?”

She was silent for a long moment, as if taking his measure. “You do what you need to survive,” she said at last. “But tell me, Chakotay, if there had been another way of getting back from the Delta Quadrant, would you have taken it?” 

“What do you mean?”

“What made you swear allegiance to Janeway, the Starfleet captain they sent to capture you? Why didn’t you try to take over her ship at some point?”

“Because I made a promise,” he said quietly.

“What of the promises the Federation made to us?” Sveta asked mockingly. “They promised to protect us and our homes. But when the Cardassians threatened war, the Federation – and their Starfleet tools – blithely gave away our homes to the enemy. They gave away our _lives_, Chakotay. We were hunted and pursued by all sides, and when it came to the final confrontation, Starfleet stood by and let the enemy massacre us. We meant less than nothing to them.” Her voice took on a harsher undertone. “And yet you chose to serve a Starfleet captain on a Starfleet ship, even sacrificing your own vessel in her service.”

Sveta’s words hit a nerve he hadn’t realized was so exposed, but when he spoke, his tone was mild, betraying none of his doubts. “From the beginning, when she first hailed my ship, Janeway treated me like an equal. She offered a chance to work together to solve our common dilemma of being pulled 70,000 light years from home.”

Sveta made a disparaging noise in her throat. “Because she wanted something from you.” She took a step closer, invading his personal space. “If you _had_ used the Caretaker’s array to get home, do you think Janeway wouldn’t have immediately turned around and arrested you?”

“Maybe she would have,” Chakotay said. “Maybe she would have given us a chance to get away upon returning to the Alpha Quadrant, or maybe she would have arrested us and then spoken on our behalf to Starfleet at our trials. I don’t know what might have been.” He paused. “But I don’t betray my promises.”

Sveta gave a faint smile. “Spoken like a true Starfleet officer,” she said. “I’d be surprised if you were any different.” 

“We were both Starfleet once, Sveta,” he couldn’t help point out.

She shook her head. “It was a long time, ago, Chakotay – longer for me than for you.” She grimaced. “I can’t imagine going back to that life.”

“Neither can I,” Chakotay said. Sveta looked at him in surprise. “I’ve left Starfleet, Sveta. They offered me a commission after I was cleared of all charges, but I chose not to accept it.” He coughed slightly. “I haven’t figured out what comes next.”

Sveta hesitated, as if weighing his words, then turned toward the door. “Do you want to stay inside for the rest of the hour or do you prefer the outdoors?”

“You can go out?” he asked in surprise.

By way of answer, she held up her arm and he saw the security bracelet at her wrist. “We’re allowed free reign inside the buildings and the grounds during daylight hours, provided we don’t miss our scheduled counseling sessions and remain at least ten meters away from the security barrier at all times.”

“Counseling sessions?”

“The Federation is an enlightened society,” she said with only a trace of her earlier mocking tone. “They believe in healing, not punishment, in restoration of the spirit, not in taking retribution.” She paused. “More fool they.”

Without a word, he followed her outside. She was nearly his height, but walked with her shoulders hunched, her hands shoved deep within the pockets of her jumpsuit. For several moments, neither of them spoke.

“Why did you come here, Chakotay?” she asked suddenly. She came to a halt on the graveled path and swung around to face him. 

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” she asked again. 

“Because we were friends, once,” he answered. “I never forgot our time together at the Academy or those early days serving together in the Maquis. Though we’d drifted apart once I formed my own cell.” He paused. “In fact, when I told B’Elanna you’d written to me, she was surprised that you’d done so.”

“I surprised myself with that one,” she noted wryly. “We all thought you were dead, Chakotay, that the Cardassians had captured or destroyed your ship. We were shocked when we found out years later that you had been swept off to the Delta Quadrant along with the Starfleet vessel. And that you and many others in your cell had survived.” Almost to herself she added, “After so many deaths, it seemed like a miracle.”

“So you felt like you needed to reach out,” he said, nodding. “When I got your note, I felt guilty about surviving, and I know I wasn’t the only one. B’Elanna took the news especially hard.”

“I wanted to be the one to tell you about Roberto and Atara,” she said, referring to members of the Maquis who had been close friends of his and B’Elanna’s. She repeated, “There were so many deaths…some hit home more than others.”

“I appreciated hearing it from you,” he said. “It was difficult to learn that most of our comrades in arms had died. The news coming from an old friend – that softened the blow, at least a little.”

“Some, like Michael Eddington, went out on their own terms,” Sveta said, as if Chakotay hadn’t spoken. “The rest…” She didn’t need to complete the sentence.

Chakotay had been a few years ahead of Eddington at the Academy, and their slight acquaintance was renewed and strengthened in the Maquis. But Eddington’s service had been mostly undercover, posing as a loyal Starfleet officer while channeling information and supplies to the various Maquis cells. “What about his wife, Rebecca?” he asked.

“She’s still alive,” Sveta said. At his unspoken question, she added, “Rebecca’s not here. She was considered more ‘hardcore’, based on her record and the fact she nearly killed a guard while trying to escape. She’s in a high security facility on Alphacent.”

“There are so few of you, I’m still surprised they didn’t keep you together,” he said. 

Sveta turned and gave him a measured look. “At least Rebecca is in a Federation prison.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember Tom Riker?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar. “Riker…” he mused. “Wait, do you mean Will Riker, the XO on the _Enterprise_?”

“No, that’s his brother. Tom followed a very different path. He joined the Maquis after your ship was lost. A few years ago, while posing as his brother, he went to Deep Space Nine where he stole a ship. We believed the Orias system housed a high security Cardassian shipyard, and Riker led a mission to attack it. Our intelligence was wrong, and when he was captured by Starfleet, Riker agreed to be handed over to the Cardassians, in exchange for the extradition of his crew to the Federation.” Sveta’s eyes met his. “They say he’s serving a life sentence in the Lazon II labor camp.”

Chakotay was stunned. “Starfleet allowed one of their officers to be imprisoned in a Cardassian labor camp?”

“Nobody cares about the Maquis, Chakotay,” Sveta said impatiently. “Can’t you get it through your head? The Federation is engaged in a devastating war against the very people we fought against, and yet they keep us prisoners, years after we were proved to be right about the Cardassians! What threat do a few broken Maquis represent to the Federation now?” 

“This isn’t right,” Chakotay said tightly. 

“No, it isn’t,” Sveta said. 

As she spoke, Chakotay suddenly realized what he was meant to do next.


	10. Chapter 10

The Mess Hall had certainly changed a lot, Tom Paris thought as he entered, perhaps more than any other location on board _Voyager_. Instead of Neelix presiding behind the counter in a colorful chef’s hat, there was simply a main power unit and grid to support the banks of replicator units that lined the walls. There was no longer an open cooking area, no rising steam or scents that promised an exotic dish, made with the natural flora and fauna of the Delta Quadrant. There was also no question of replicator rations. The crew could order whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it. 

He fought down a brief – and unexpected – wave of nostalgia and approached a replicator unit.

“Tomato soup, hot,” he said. “Plain tomato soup, no fancy additives, no Rigellian style, no--”

Before he could finish speaking, the cover to the unit opened. He lifted the bowl of soup that had materialized and examined it suspiciously. But it was exactly what he had ordered.

“Will wonders never cease,” he muttered under his breath. Aware that others were waiting patiently for their turn at the unit, he hastily stepped away and surveyed the crowd in front of him for a place to sit.

He noticed Tighe sitting at a table with the captain. Remembering his father’s revelation about Janeway’s past relationship with Tighe – not to mention their memorable farewell that the entire senior staff had witnessed - he observed them avidly for a few moments. Tighe said something that made Janeway smile and then shake her head and say something in return. They looked comfortable together; it was easy to see the rapport between them. In fact, they looked like a couple. 

As he watched, Janeway rose from her seat and touched Tighe’s arm lightly, the gesture a little too fleeting to be called a caress, and then quickly exited the Mess Hall. 

Tom immediately went over. “Mind if I sit down?”

Tighe prodded a chair with his foot. “Be my guest.” The tray in front of him held a few unidentifiable crumbs and smears of sauce, and a nearly full bowl of what appeared to be chocolate pudding. Tighe took a spoonful, obviously relishing the taste, and said, “How’s it going, Paris?”

“All right,” Tom answered, beginning to eat his soup. “Just got off duty, as a matter of fact.” He added casually, “It’s always a challenge to pilot a starship through the Badlands, but it’s going well.” 

“Thanks to your advanced piloting skills, no doubt,” Tighe said, with a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Tom shot him a suspicious look, wondering if Tighe was being sarcastic. He decided to take the comment at face value. “No doubt,” he said lightly, “though some of the credit goes to _Voyager_ herself. I can’t get over how incredibly responsive the ship is – one of the many upgrades _Voyager_ got in the refit – as well as the improved navigation charts. I guess in the past few years, someone had the time to thoroughly map the area.”

Tighe smiled but didn’t answer. The two men ate in silence for a few minutes.

“By the way,” Tighe said, “my belated congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thanks,” Tom said, patting his lips with a napkin. “You missed a hell of a party.”

“I’m sure.” Tighe’s mouth turned down at the corner. “If weddings are your thing.”

“Hopefully, you enjoyed your _own_ wedding,” Tom said without thinking. Tighe raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Defensively, Tom added, “I heard that you and the captain were once married.” 

Tighe didn’t ask who he’d heard it from. Instead, he said, “My wedding reception was a pretty formal affair, held out in Indiana at some fancy country club. I hardly knew a soul there.” He pushed away his empty bowl. “But being married was great – until it wasn’t.” 

Tom thought back to his father’s gossip about Janeway the night he and B’Elanna had gone to his parents’ house for dinner. “They say a career in Starfleet can be hell on a marriage, unless you’re lucky enough to be stationed together.” _Like B’Elanna and I are_, he added silently.

Tighe nodded. “So they say.”

“Well,” Tom remarked, somewhat recklessly, “from the looks of things between you and Janeway, maybe you’ve got a second chance in that department.”

Tighe gave him a look and Tom gulped, thinking that maybe this time he’d really gone too far. Just because B’Elanna had a more than cordial relationship with Tighe – the two had bonded over engineering issues when Tighe had last been on board - didn’t mean _he_ could get away with making smart ass comments to the commander.

Suddenly, Tighe gave a wry smile and said, “Maybe, if I don’t screw it up.” 

With the wisdom of the newly married, Tom replied, “Well, then make sure you don’t.” 

Tighe looked amused. “As easy as that?” 

Tom nodded and swallowed another spoonful of soup. “As easy as that,” he agreed and grinned.

***

Seven of Nine entered Sickbay and stopped short. Even though it was five days since _Voyager_ had entered the Badlands, this was the first time she’d seen the refurbished facility. The main bay looked very different than it had the last time she’d entered it. The biobeds were arranged in a new configuration and much of the equipment around them was unfamiliar.

A blonde nurse with a brisk, no-nonsense air about her looked up from a nearby console. “May I help you, Lieutenant?”

Seven involuntarily glanced down at the black and gray uniform she wore. “Yes. I wish to see the Doctor.”

“One moment, please.” The nurse touched a contact. “Doctor, you have a patient.”

“Thank you, Nurse Houlihan,” said an unfamiliar voice. “I’ll be right there.”

Seven looked up as a man wearing a blue medical smock approached. “Lieutenant Hansen, isn’t it?”

Surprised at being addressed by name by a total stranger, Seven said the first thing that occurred to her. “You are not the Doctor.”

“I’m Doctor Julian Bashir. How may I help you?”

“Where is the EMH?”

“He’s off duty at present.”

Seven stood perfectly still for a moment, trying to adjust to this unusual situation. In all her time on _Voyager_, the Doctor and Sickbay had been inseparable. Despite his occasional forays to the holodeck or other parts of the ship such as the bridge or briefing room, she had never known him not to be available when a member of the crew required something in Sickbay. 

“Is there something I can assist you with?” Dr. Bashir repeated patiently.

Seven jerked back to attention. “One of my implants requires adjustment. However, it is not critical at this time. As the Doctor is offline, I can return another--”

“I can take care of that,” Bashir assured her. “I am familiar with each of the crew’s medical dossiers, and fully knowledgeable about Borg implants and nanoprobes.”

“That is how you knew my designation,” she said, in sudden realization.

“I’m familiar with the crew manifest, as well as any special needs they may have,” Bashir said. “Your Borg designation was Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, but you’re listed on the _Voyager_ roster as Annika Hansen, Lieutenant j.g.” He smiled at her, his teeth very white against his olive skin, and motioned toward one of the biobeds. “So, Lieutenant, which implant is troubling you?”

“My ocular implant,” she said, following him to the examination area and perching on the edge of a biobed.

Bashir waved his mediwand over the area in question. “I see some inflammation and redness…are you experiencing any double vision?”

“Yes.” Seven added, “Periodically, the growth of scar tissue surrounding the area impedes the proper functioning of the implant. It will require recalibration.”

“I’ll do that after I reduce the swelling and make sure there are no other signs of infection.” He picked up a second instrument. “I assume the scar tissue stemmed from the removal of another implant?”

“Yes. The Doctor cautioned me I would need periodic adjustments of the remaining Borg technology to ensure proper sensory function.” For some reason, she added defensively, “It was not due to any error on his part.”

“I assume it’s because he was unable to remove the entire optic sclera, due to minor atrophy of the left branch of the optic nerve.”

“Yes,” Seven said in surprise. “You _are_ indeed familiar with my medical history.”

Bashir picked up a hypospray. “I’m going to first inject the area with a mild relaxant followed by an antiseptic, and then perform the recalibration. This won’t hurt a bit.”

“This is not the first time I have undergone this procedure. It is unnecessary to state I will feel no pain.”

“Not necessary, but I like to say that. Especially when it’s true,” he said. 

Seven’s lips quirked in a slight smile. “Do you say it to all of your patients, Doctor Bashir?”

“Only to the ones I feel require ‘special’ treatment,” he said with an answering smile. She noticed his eyes were pale blue, their expression very kind.

Bashir examined his handiwork, and gently probed the area around her implant with his fingertips. “How does that feel?”

“Better than it did before,” Seven said. “Thank you.”

He stepped back and made a slight bow. “Glad to be of service, Lieutenant.”

“Annika,” she said, surprising herself. “You may refer to me as Annika, if you wish.”

“I’d be delighted,” he said.

The main Sickbay doors opened, and the Doctor entered, with Ensign Tigan in tow. Seven had not yet had the opportunity to meet the new ship’s counselor, but she was able to easily identify the Trill woman based on the stories already circulating among the crew.

“—I still don’t understand why it’s so difficult!” the ensign exclaimed. “They can’t _all_ be on duty whenever I try to schedule an appointment, can they?” 

The Doctor hesitated, clearly uncomfortable about being put on the spot. “Well, there’s no denying _Voyager_’s crew is certainly a dedicated bunch!” He caught sight of Seven standing next to Bashir and his demeanor changed. “Seven, what are you doing here?”

“My ocular implant needed adjustment,” she answered.

“I’ll get to that right away,” the Doctor said, hurrying forward. “Why don’t you-- ”

“There is no need for your assistance,” Seven interrupted. “Doctor Bashir already took care of me.”

The Doctor halted. “I see.”

Ensign Tigan immediately piped up, “Oh, you must be Lieutenant Hansen! I recognized you by your implants. I’m the ship’s counselor, Ezri Tigan, and I’m conducting initial interviews with the crew, to lay the groundwork for future counseling sessions as necessary. I happen to have some openings in my schedule, so if you’re free now, we can--”

“I am on duty,” Seven said quickly. “In fact, I am expected to meet with Commander Hareven in Astrometrics in a few moments to discuss the upgrade in the long-range sensors. Please excuse me.” She hastened toward the exit.

Ensign Tigan looked after her and sighed. “Well, if anyone is looking for me, I’ll be in my office.”

The Doctor waited until Ezri left before he turned to Bashir. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I’d say our intrepid counselor is having some difficulty trying to schedule the crew interviews,” Bashir said carelessly. “It might be a kindness to suggest to her that perhaps she’s coming across as a bit too aggressive and she might get better results if she--”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” the Doctor said. “What were you doing with Seven?”

“She came in to have her ocular implant adjusted, and I treated her,” Bashir said evenly. “We agreed I would cover Sickbay when you aren’t here, after all.” He glanced at the Doctor’s expression. “Surely you don’t expect to have a monopoly over treating patients.”

“Seven’s situation is special. Due to her Borg background--”

“Which I am well acquainted with, as it so happens. Annika seemed quite pleased by the way I handled her treatment.”

“That’s exactly what I’m referring to!” the Doctor exclaimed. “‘Annika’ hasn’t had the opportunity to meet a lot of people, other than the _Voyager_ crew, since she was separated from the Borg. Social situations are still quite difficult for her.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’re coming on too strong and should back off,” snapped the Doctor. “I saw you flirting with her.” 

“What you saw was my being pleasant to a patient,” Bashir said flatly. 

“And the fact that _this_ patient happens to be an extremely attractive, if naive, young woman?” 

“That’s irrelevant.” Bashir paused. “In my professional opinion, Doctor, you’re being too overprotective of Annika. It’s in her best interest if you treat her like the grown woman she is and let her explore new experiences. As she’s doubtless already discovering, it’s a big new world out there beyond the _Voyager_ sphere of influence.”

And to that, the Doctor had no reply.


	11. Chapter 11

B’Elanna came to the end of her report on the warp engines’ status. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss, Captain?”

Janeway leaned back in her chair in the Ready Room and smiled. “We’ve talked a number of times about things pertaining to ship’s business, but haven’t really had a chance to catch up since the wedding. How are you doing?”

“Other than the usual issues you’d expect with melding the old and new crew and making sure everyone understands exactly how I expect to run an engine room, everything has been going pretty smoothly.” 

“No, I meant, how are _you_?”

B’Elanna looked up, surprised but pleased. She and Janeway had always been on the same wavelength as far as engineering and warp theory were concerned, but the captain’s forays into personal discussions, particularly when on duty, were few and far between. “I’m good,” she said.

“How’s married life?”

“It’s fine.” B’Elanna paused. “I mean, we’re adjusting to being married, including sharing living quarters and trying to be careful of each other’s space. Honestly, I didn’t think it would be that big a deal as Tom and I have known each other for a long time.”

Janeway nodded. “You’ve served together in pretty close quarters on _Voyager_, even before you became romantically involved. Then again, it’s also true that you never really know someone until you live with them, and then you learn all kinds of things you wouldn’t otherwise.”

“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” B’Elanna said and paused. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Janeway took a sip from her ever-present cup of coffee. “Go ahead.”

“The other day in Engineering, when Commander Tighe showed us the cloaking device. You didn’t react the way I thought you would.”

“In what way?”

“I just thought you’d be more excited about the cloak, as it really improves the odds of our mission’s success,” B’Elanna said cautiously.

Janeway looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve always been interested in new technology. Especially in the Delta Quadrant, as each new piece of equipment could mean the difference between shaving light years off our journey, or even our very survival. You’re right; on the surface, this should be no different.” At B’Elanna’s curious glance, Janeway elaborated. “I just have some… misgivings about this particular tech, as it comes with a lot of baggage, namely the issues brought up by the treaty of Algeron.”

“I see your point,” B’Elanna said slowly. “Using the cloaking technology on our mission _could_ violate the terms of our treaty with the Romulans, as the Federation agreed to give up developing cloaking technology. However, the treaty no longer seems to be so cut and dried.”

“You don’t have to go any farther than the example of the _Defiant_,” Janeway agreed. “Still…” she put her empty cup down on the desk and leaned forward, her hands clasped beneath her chin. “I’ve always been a ‘by the book officer’, even if I did have to make some major adjustments during our DQ years.” She took a deep breath. “The cloak is just another symbol of the illicit – I mean, covert - nature of our mission.”

“Well, with Tighe involved, that would seem to be a given.” B’Elanna paused at the sight of the complex emotions playing across her captain’s face. She added, “When Tighe showed up in the DQ with the new quantum drive, particularly when he swore us all to silence about his involvement, we all figured out pretty quickly that he’s covert ops.”

Janeway nodded tersely.

B’Elanna hesitated, unsure of her footing, and then decided to ask the question that had been on her mind since Tighe had unveiled the cloaking device to the senior staff. The tension between the captain and commander had been almost palpable. “Do you have an issue with that – or with him?” 

“You’re very perceptive, Lieutenant,” Janeway said stiffly and then sighed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to freeze you out. The situation is…complicated, which is often the case when it comes to me and Commander Tighe.” She rose and went to the replicator for a refill. “When I first met Justin, he challenged me intellectually like I had rarely been before, and I enjoyed sparring with him in a battle of wits. That was what drew me to him in the first place.”

B’Elanna remarked neutrally, “His physical appearance clearly didn’t hurt either.”

“No, it didn’t,” Janeway said, the corners of her mouth twitching. “But it wasn’t until later, after Justin rescued Owen and me from the Cardassians, that I fell in love with him.” 

“Tom’s father told us the story of how you two met the first time I had dinner at their house,” B’Elanna noted.

“Did he?” Janeway sighed. “That’s an odd subject to bring up when meeting your son’s girlfriend, but Owen has always taken an unusually keen interest in my personal life. It never used to bother me, though I can see how such interest might be open to...misinterpretation.” 

_That was one way of putting it_, B’Elanna thought. “So what happened between you and Justin, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“At the beginning, everything was wonderful,” Janeway said, her voice taking on the rich tone of reliving some special memories. “We were young, in love, and both our Starfleet careers were on an upward trajectory. We had the perfect marriage, or at least I thought so.” The captain’s facial expression changed subtly. “I admit I always put Justin up on a pedestal, and when I discovered he had feet of clay, I didn’t handle the revelation very well.” 

“You don’t need ‘perfect’ to be happy together,” B’Elanna said. She refrained from mentioning it certainly looked like Tighe and Janeway had managed to get past their differences; the two of them were even rumored to be sharing the captain’s quarters. “What I’ve learned from my relationship with Tom is that what you need most is openness and trust.” 

“Exactly,” Janeway said, almost as if she was speaking to herself, and then she changed the subject.

***

Tuvok entered the turbolift and nodded in greeting to the lone occupant. “Ensign Tigan, I trust things are going well for you?”

“Yes, Commander,” she said. “I can’t complain…oh, who am I fooling? No, sir, things are not going well.” Her too-bright smile abruptly disappeared, and she sighed heavily.

Tuvok had a moment of regret at opening himself up to what would undoubtedly be, judging by the ensign’s facial expression, an emotional display. But as first officer, the well-being of the crew was his concern. “If I may ask, what is the nature of your distress?”

“It’s the crew!” Ezri burst out.

Tuvok felt his right eyebrow climb upward. “You are having a problem with the crew?”

“Yes,” Ezri said, fishing around in her pocket as though looking for something.

“All of the crew?” he asked, trying to ascertain what the issue was. “Or with specific members of the crew?”

“All of them!” Ezri retrieved a small square of what looked to be made of fabric and blew her nose loudly.

Inwardly, Tuvok sighed. “Computer, halt lift.” Ezri looked up in surprise. “Ensign, if I am to be of any assistance, you must please explain more fully which individuals have given you trouble, and the exact nature of your complaint.”

“It’s not that anyone’s actually done something,” Ezri admitted. “It’s more like what they’re _not_ doing!”

Tuvok waited patiently but no further information was forthcoming. “I do not understand.”

“I’m the ship’s counselor!” Ezri said indignantly. “At the very least, I’m supposed to be conducting introductory sessions, so I can help them with any future problems. But how can I when they refuse to talk to me?”

“The crew refuses to talk to you?” Tuvok repeated.

“You know, in an official setting.”

“Ah,” Tuvok said as the light broke. “You are having difficulty getting the crew to meet with you for counseling sessions.”

“Yes,” she sniffed. “I book appointments, send out reminders, but when the time comes, they don’t show up!”

Privately, Tuvok couldn’t help thinking that no one looked less like a ship’s counselor than the young ensign standing before him. Nonetheless, Starfleet regulations were very clear; the counselor was required to meet with each member of the crew to form a baseline should further therapy sessions or treatments be necessary. He thought back to _Voyager_’s years in the Delta Quadrant and acknowledged that the crew could certainly have benefited from having a counselor on board. “How many of the crew have you met with so far?”

“None.”

Tuvok felt his eyebrow climb even higher. “None? Do you mean to say that in the eight days you have been on board this ship you have not yet held a single appointment?”

Ezri shook her head, her dismay plain upon her face. “Everyone claims to be too busy for the times I suggest. But I think they’re just avoiding me. I mean, they can’t _all_ always be on duty!”

“There is a possibility they are telling the truth,” he said neutrally. “The crew is very dedicated to performing at high levels."

"Even the captain can't find some time to meet with me?"

"Captain Janeway is especially dedicated to performing above and beyond the call of duty," Tuvok said. He quickly added, “Nonetheless, you are correct, Counselor. The situation at present is untenable. I will take it upon myself to schedule an initial round of sessions between yourself and various members of the crew, to utilize as you see fit.”

“Thank you so much, Commander!” Ezri said. She beamed at him and for a moment, he was afraid she was going to invade his personal space to express her gratitude. Fortunately, she made no such moves.

“Computer, resume lift,” he said, satisfied that he had dealt with the situation.

“Are you on your way to the bridge now?” asked Ezri.

“Yes,” Tuvok replied.

She eyed him speculatively. “You know, in such a situation, it would be a good idea for the captain, or first officer, to be the first to volunteer, to show the rest of the crew that there’s nothing to be afraid of. What are you doing at the end of your shift?”

“Meditating,” he replied. “In my quarters. Alone.”

*** 

Tom looked up from his PADD as B’Elanna entered their quarters. “Where have you been? Your shift ended more than an hour ago.”

“I had a last-minute issue to address, and it took longer than expected, thanks to some unsolicited input,” B’Elanna said as she pulled off her uniform jacket and sat down next to him on the couch. “If I’d known I was going to be this late, I’d have let you know.”

“Anything serious?” Tom asked. “There’s nothing wrong with the engines, I hope.”

“No, the engines are fine – I wouldn’t expect otherwise, as they performed beautifully in our shakedown cruise to Deep Space Nine. This was just a question of... a difference of opinion between the old and new crews about how certain duties should be performed,” B’Elanna said neutrally. 

“People coming from different ships probably got used to different command styles,” Tom pointed out. “You might need to spell things out a bit more for the new engineers as they’re not as familiar with how you like things done.”

“Yes, that could be it.” B’Elanna hesitated before adding, “Some of the newcomers seem to think they’re better than the old _Voyager_ crew, particularly the former Maquis.” That attitude had become abundantly clear during her last hour or so in Engineering, when she’d been in the midst of reviewing parameters with Nicoletti, who would be taking over during beta shift. 

“What’s the purity of the matter-anti-matter mix?” B’Elanna had asked.

“Ninety-seven point five,” Nicoletti answered.

“Good,” B’Elanna said with a brisk nod as she turned to one of the other stations. “Now, as far as the plasma relays are concerned—”

“Pardon me, Lieutenant Torres,” said one of the new crewmen, so smoothly that it almost sounded as though she weren’t interrupting. “Don’t the official Starfleet engineering standards clearly state the core mix purity must meet a minimum threshold of ninety-eight percent?”

B’Elanna bit back the sharp retort that sprang to her lips; this wasn’t the first time Lieutenant Alice Holland, j.g., fresh from a tour of duty on board the _Enterprise_, had argued B’Elanna’s recommended procedure was not the right way to do something. And this time it wasn’t even an issue that directly involved her.

“You’re correct that the official standards quote a higher level,” B’Elanna said evenly. “However, in my experience, particularly with the _Voyager_ warp core, the same results can be achieved at a slightly lower purity level. For our purposes, ninety-seven point five, or even ninety-seven, are sufficient at our present cruising speed.” 

Holland frowned. “But surely--”

B’Elanna raised her voice slightly, causing Nicoletti to take a small step backwards, as if she were anticipating an outburst of the famous Torres temper. “As I said, ninety-seven point five percent is sufficient for our needs and we can turn our attention elsewhere.” She was proud of her calm delivery; in the early days in the Delta Quadrant she’d had to learn how to assert her authority without losing her cool, as Tom liked to say. Summoning those long-ago lessons, she turned her back and resumed her inspection of the plasma relays with the outward expectation that the matter was settled. 

As she was leaving, B’Elanna overheard a comment as she’d walked past a group of the new Engineering crew. “It must be nice to have married into Starfleet royalty and have your pick of assignments, regardless of your experience.” Her first inclination was to laugh, as it was so off base. But she did not visibly react.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” she said now to Tom, “being looked down at for being a Maquis who got kicked out of the Academy or considered a ‘social climber’ who got to where she is by marriage, not by ability.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You’re chief engineer because you’re the best person for the job. That was true back in the Delta Quadrant, and it’s true now. You certainly didn’t get it because you married into the exalted Paris clan.” 

B’Elanna opened her mouth to speak but Tom wasn’t finished yet. “Your past doesn’t present the whole story of who you are,” Tom said, leaning forward to catch her gaze with his. B’Elanna knew this was a lesson that he’d had to learn himself, that he was destined to be neither a screw-up because of mistakes he’d made in his past or an outstanding Starfleet officer based on his heritage. 

“I guess you’re right,” she said non-committedly.

Tom clearly picked up on her uneasiness. “Did someone refuse to follow your orders?” he asked his concern evident. “You’re the chief engineer – there’s no ‘misunderstanding’ about that.”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” she hastened to reassure him. 

“Ah, OK, it sounds like it just may be growing pains,” Tom said, his relief evident. “After four years of working with the same people, there’s bound to be an adjustment period.” He squeezed her hand comfortingly. “You’ll manage just fine.” 

B’Elanna didn’t share his confidence, but aloud she said, “I’ll take your word for it.” Changing the subject, she said, “There have been some good additions, though. One of the new engineers, T’Lara, is a Vulcan who seems positively outgoing compared to Vorik or Tuvok. I could have sworn I saw her smile when Nicoletti cracked a joke earlier.”

“A Vulcan with a sense of humor?” Tom shook his head. “Too bad Neelix isn’t still on board – he’d love to see that. Then again, it’s probably better for Tuvok this way!” He paused. “Personal and professional relationships are always interwoven on any ship, not just one where the crew is cooped up together for an expected 70 years.” His eyes met hers. “Give it time, B’Elanna, and all of the differences will gradually melt away, just like they did in the DQ.”

“What about dinner?” she said, the rumbling of her stomach reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Did you eat yet?” 

“Nope, I waited for you,” Tom said and went over to the replicator. Within a few minutes they sat down to their meal of breaded chicken cutlets, garlic green beans and mashed potatoes. 

After a few mouthfuls, B’Elanna sighed and laid down her fork. “I miss working with the old crew from the DQ. Those years were very hard, but looking back, we really did have something special.”

“I know what you mean, but surely there are compensations this time around? Or is it that you were looking forward to working with Tighe again, but it’s my turn this time,” Tom said teasingly. His tone took on a more serious note as he said, “I met with him this afternoon to go over the navigation routes and the targets in the GQ.” 

“Targets, plural?” B’Elanna asked.

“That’s what the man said. One in the Korell system, the other in the Loralian system. Two targets.”

“It doesn’t quite fit with what I heard from the captain when I met with her this morning,” B’Elanna said with a slight frown. “Janeway made it sound like we would emerge from the quantum drive tunnel within five light years of the ketracel white processing facility. She didn’t say anything about a secondary target.”

Tom shrugged. “Admiral Ross made it pretty clear Tighe’s calling the shots on this once we reach the Gamma Quadrant, so I presume Tighe knows what he’s talking about.”

“You’re probably right,” B’Elanna said. She came over to his seat, plunked herself down on his lap, and put her arms around his neck. “I don’t know about you, but I’d say we’ve had enough discussion of ship’s business for now.”

Tom smiled. “I like the way you think.”

***

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Colonel Kira,” said Chakotay as he took the offered seat.

The Bajoran woman, the station’s second in command, smiled briefly but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m surprised to see you here, Commander, especially considering _Voyager_ left Deep Space Nine just a week ago. I’d assumed you were on board.”

“I’ve left Starfleet,” Chakotay said, correcting her form of address. “I’m here as a private citizen.”

“We don’t get a lot of civilian traffic these days,” Kira said. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war on.” She leaned back in her seat and looked at him curiously. “If you’re here to see Captain Sisko, he isn’t available. He’s currently on Earth, as a matter of fact.”

“I’m here to see you, Colonel, not the captain.” He paused “I’d like to talk with you about the Maquis, or rather, one member in particular.” Chakotay rapidly outlined the situation as he’d understood it from Sveta a few weeks earlier. “And so,” he concluded, “I need your help to secure Tom Riker’s release, or at the very least a transfer to a Federation prison.”

“Why should I help you?” Kira asked, raising her eyebrows. “For that matter, why should I even care?”

Chakotay tried not to show his surprise at her reaction. “Because in the not too distant past, you were also a ‘freedom fighter’ who opposed the Cardassian occupation of your homeworld.”

“The circumstances were different,” Kira objected, as she leaned forward, planting her hands firmly on the top of the desk. “Many Maquis fighters weren’t even residents of the DMZ colonies. Evidence suggests that a high proportion of your ranks were made up of criminals or mercenaries. It didn’t particularly matter to them who they were fighting against.” Chakotay started to object, but Kira cut him off sharply. “The Maquis also targeted Federation vessels and installations, hampering Starfleet forces just as hostilities with the Klingons, and later the Cardassians and Dominion, were starting to heat up. I know _you_ resigned your commission, Chakotay, before you joined the Maquis. But many of your comrades did not. To some, like Captain Sisko, they were no better than deserters – or traitors.”

“The _Voyager_ Maquis have been pardoned for our ‘alleged crimes,” said Chakotay immediately.

“In recognition of your service in the Delta Quadrant,” Kira noted. “Unlike the rest of the Maquis.”

Chakotay felt his expression harden as he recalled the isolation and hardships of those years. “In other words, we were the lucky ones, considering what happened to the Maquis back home.”

“Some might say they got what they deserved. After all, when you pick a fight with a vastly more powerful foe, the outcome is rarely a good one.”

“I’m not here to win any arguments with you, Major,” Chakotay said, keeping his emotions firmly under wraps. “Given that Tom Riker left Deep Space Nine on the _Defiant_ for his ill-fated mission, I had hoped you’d be more sympathetic.” He anticipated her next words. “The official word is that he stole the ship. But I’ve heard rumors; they say he had help from someone aboard the station.”

“You have a hell of a lot of nerve, coming to me about this,” Kira said slowly.

“Why do you say that?” 

“Because that ‘someone’ you’ve heard rumors about is me. Riker kidnapped me when he stole the _Defiant_ for that damn fool mission,” Kira snapped. 

Chakotay was silent.

“I _thought_ I was meeting with a Starfleet officer,” Kira continued. “Tom pretended to be his brother Will Riker, the XO on board the _Enterprise_. He asked me to show him the _Defiant_; before I knew it, we were on our way to Cardassian territory. Riker didn’t even bother to confirm the existence of the shipyards before risking all our lives.”

“I didn’t know that,” Chakotay admitted. He cursed himself for not doing his homework; he’d drawn his own conclusions without independent confirmation. 

She leaned back in her chair and gave him an appraising look. “I’ll say this much for him. Tom Riker was an idealist. He went about things totally the wrong way, but he fought for what he thought was right, and I have to admire that. He thought like a Starfleet officer, not a terrorist, and it was reflected in how he conducted that mission.” 

“That’s a nice speech, Colonel,” Chakotay said. “Do you believe it?”

Kira stiffened. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

“So you will help me,” Chakotay said, his eyes never leaving her face. “If you valued what he did, you have to agree he doesn’t deserve to rot in a Cardassian labor camp.”

“You’re right about one thing: I did respect him,” Kira admitted. “The way he stepped up and took full responsibility, turned himself over to the Cardassians voluntarily to save the others. But I’m not going to help you, Chakotay.” She forestalled his objections. “Even if I wanted to, my hands are tied; I have no resources to expend. Like everyone else in the Federation, I’ve got a lot going on. I’ve got an absent captain, the enemy in my backyard, Romulans who want to set up a hospital base on a Bajoran moon, plus the tensions of war – all on the heels of an attack on the station that seriously wounded a good friend of mine.” 

Kira rose to her feet, and he did as well, sensing she’d spent all the time with him that she was going to.

“I see,” Chakotay said, disappointed. He’d really thought he could persuade her.

“While I’d like to say I’m sympathetic, I really don’t have much to offer you,” she said, walking him to the door. “Your best bet is to go back to Earth, maybe appeal to the office of the president for clemency. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.” 

Chakotay forced his jaw to unclench. “Thank you for your time, Colonel.”


	12. Chapter 12

Spotting an empty table at the far end of the Mess Hall, Seven sat down with her tray and took out a PADD. Absorbed in her work, she was unaware of an approaching presence until a shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see Dr. Bashir.

“Hello, Annika,” he said, smiling warmly. He indicated the tray in his hands. “May I join you?” 

“Yes.” Since the time he had treated her in Sickbay, she had encountered the doctor numerous times in the corridors or ‘lifts; each time he’d been friendly, but their interactions had been brief. Now, he’d clearly sought her out. Feeling suddenly flustered, she moved to make room for him. 

He took a bite of his meal, some sort of stew from what she could tell, and motioned toward her PADD. “What are you reading?”

“I am working on a report on the plasma discharge energy frequencies in the Badlands,” she said. She took a sip of her beverage; lately she’d developed a taste for sparkling water though the name still puzzled her. 

Bashir shook his head in mock dismay. “I didn’t realize Alex was such a slave driver that you have to spend all your time working, even during meals.” 

“Alex?” she questioned. “This report is for my superior officer, Commander Hareven.” She paused, suddenly understanding. “Ah, I did not realize the commander’s first name was Alex.” 

“It isn’t,” Bashir said his teeth flashing in another smile. “His first name is something many humans find hard to pronounce and so, I call him Alex.” 

Puzzled, Seven said, “Is that not offensive, to purposely call him by another name?”

Bashir chuckled. “Alex and I go back a long way. I assure you, he’s fine with it.”

Seven didn’t know how to respond. She continued eating her meal, a baked casserole high in protein and low in fats and carbohydrates, while watching Bashir out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t seem troubled by the lull in conversation; she found him a most intriguing individual and wondered at the interest he was showing her. 

She cleared her throat. “Are you finding your stay aboard _Voyager_ to be a pleasant one, Doctor?”

“We’re both off-duty now,” he said. “Call me Julian.” He took another bite of his stew. “To answer your question, yes, I am. It’s a different experience for me, being on a ship for a change.” At her questioning look, he added, “My permanent assignment is on Deep Space Nine; Admiral Ross requested my temporary assignment on board _Voyager_.”

“I see. How long have you been stationed on Deep Space Nine?”

“Seven years. I arrived at the same time as Captain Sisko, just prior to the discovery of the Bajoran wormhole.”

“The wormhole is a fascinating construct,” Seven said, leaning forward eagerly. “Even among the Borg, the existence of an entirely stable, artificial wormhole is practically unknown. Tell me about it.”

“Well, I wasn’t on the ship that first entered the wormhole,” said Bashir – no, Julian. “But a good friend of mine was the one who made the initial discovery.”

“Lieutenant Jadzia Dax,” Seven said immediately, “now Lieutenant Commander.”

Julian smiled. “You’ve done your research.”

“As I said, I am intrigued by the subject.”

She was pleased when Julian provided a few more details about the wormhole, and the aliens who resided within, known to the Bajorans as the Prophets. All too soon, at least from Seven’s perspective, he said, “I’m sorry, that’s where my knowledge basically ends.”

“Perhaps when _Voyager_’s current mission is over, I will have the opportunity to speak with Lieutenant Commander Dax back on Deep Space Nine,” Seven said, a bit wistfully.

Julian’s expression changed subtly. “I certainly hope so.” He paused. “Jadzia was severely wounded in the latest Dominion attack on the station.”

Seven hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “I hope she recovers soon.”

“So do I,” Julian muttered, as if to himself. With a visible effort, he relaxed. “So, Annika, what do people do for fun on _Voyager_?”

“The holodeck,” Seven said immediately. “Many of the crew enjoy spending their recreational hours in holodeck simulations.”

“I see. I’m a bit of a holoprogram aficionado myself,” Julian said, looking at her expectantly.

Seven had been about to say something about one of Lieutenant Paris’ communal programs. Instead, to her surprise, she found herself saying, “I happen to have some holodeck time this evening. Timeslots were randomly assigned to all senior and junior officers before we left Earth. I had not been planning to utilize it, but would you be interested in joining me?”

Julian smiled broadly. “I’d love to. What time?”

“Twenty-two hundred hours, holodeck two.”

“It’s a date,” Julian said. He picked up his tray and left.

Seven remained seated, wondering what she had just gotten herself into.

***

His shift over, Harry Kim stopped in the Observation Lounge and looked around curiously. The room, meant to be a gathering place for the crew other than the Mess Hall or holodecks, was a new part of the ship, created during the refit from what had previously been storage space and unused crew quarters. He took a quick glance around the room; the 20 or so people there were mostly “new” crewmembers, with just a smattering of seasoned _Voyager_ veterans. He turned to go and then noticed someone sitting off in a sequestered corner by herself. 

He took a few steps forward to get a better view; he could see very little of her as her back was hunched over and her head bowed. No one else in the lounge seemed to realize anything was amiss, or possibly hadn’t spotted her at all. Obeying an impulse, Harry moved closer. Suddenly, he realized that the mystery woman was the new ship’s counselor, Ezri Tigan. He didn’t let that deter him.

“You look like you could use someone to talk to,” he said as he seated himself on the sofa next to her.

She looked up briefly; her eyes were red and swollen. “That’s my line,” she said, her voice somewhat muffled as she bent her head once more. “Not that anyone really seems to be all that interested in talking to me.”

Harry had heard stories about the new counselor, how everyone seemed to be avoiding her. Wisely, he said nothing of this. Instead, he asked, “What’s the matter?”

She hesitated. 

Harry gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m Harry Kim, by the way.”

“Chief of Operations, yes, I know,” she said. “I’m Ezri, or I suppose I should say, Counselor Ezri Tigan.” She sighed heavily. “Look, it’s very nice of you to offer, but I know you don’t really mean it.”

“Sure I do,” Harry said firmly. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” His gaze met hers. “Tell me.”

“I’m supposed to be the ship’s counselor,” Ezri said, stumbling a bit over the words. “I’ve been trying without success to get the crew to schedule time with me, but it was only after the first officer intervened that people started to keep their appointments.” 

Harry opened his mouth, puzzled; in his mind’s eye, the words “first officer” instantly brought Chakotay to mind. He realized belatedly she meant Tuvok. “Go on.”

“My first few appointments were with some of the recent transfers to Voyager. And then I got one of the former Maquis,” Ezri said ruefully. “I can’t name names, you understand, due to client-counselor confidentiality.”

Harry nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, I got more than I bargained for.” She laughed bitterly. “I thought I was properly trained, I had my degree, my license, and I’d seen loads of patients back at Starfleet Medical. And then I came here.” She shuddered involuntarily. “The stories he told me about his time in the Maquis were so horrible, consistently outnumbered in firefights, losing everyone you ever cared about, spending time in a Cardassian prison, torture . . . then being flung to the Delta Quadrant where he saw even more comrades die.” Ezri appeared to be on the verge of tears. “I managed to hold it together in front of the patient, but after he left…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m reacting so badly now. During my training, I saw some really bad trauma cases, people who’d been abused, lived through some horrible situations. And I managed. But for some reason, listening to this man now was just--”

She did burst into tears then, sharp staccato sobs that seemed to overwhelm her. Harry let her cry. When the storm showed signs of abating, he picked up her hand gave it a comforting squeeze. “What’s the usual procedure, if you find yourself…” Harry trailed off, uncertain how to say it.

“You mean if I find myself in over my head, having a meltdown over a case?” Ezri said, her mouth twisting unpleasantly. 

Harry reluctantly nodded.

“I would immediately contact my supervisors and inform them what happened. If they determined I was emotionally impaired, they would immediately bring in another counselor to take my place, and I would undergo mandated counseling sessions myself.” 

“But you’re the only counselor on board,” Harry said, suddenly understanding the problem.

“I’m the only one,” Ezri agreed sadly. “I was a last-minute replacement, you see, for Lieutenant Sanger. And the new protocols state each ship must have _a_ counselor - I guess none of the brass worried too much about the practicalities of having only a _single_ counselor on board. After all, this mission is only supposed to take a couple of weeks.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Harry muttered to himself.

“What was that?”

“Never mind. Look, it’s not your job to solve people’s problems, but to listen and help them figure it out themselves, right?” he pointed out.

She nodded. 

“And you can’t wave a magic wand to make things all better, or as if they never happened.”

“I know that,” Ezri said indignantly. 

Harry switched tactics. “Let’s say this is a text book case. The patient has been through a lot of trauma. What are you supposed to do?”

Somewhat calmer, Ezri said, “Trauma is all about the brain’s reaction to the events experienced. Everybody reacts differently, based on how much previous trauma a person has had, how well or how poorly they handle stress, how much chronic stress is currently present. Then, there are various treatments that can help. For example, I might start first with biofeedback, to address rage episodes and memory issues caused by traumatic brain injury. Then move on to EMDR, to help with grief or loss.”

“OK,” Harry said. “So you _do_ know what to do.”

“Yes, but I still can’t believe I fell apart like this. Maybe everyone was right to avoid me.” Her voice dropped lower and she addressed her own folded arms. “Maybe I’m not fit to be a counselor.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Harry said. He waited until she looked up and was facing him once more. “Is this your first tour of duty?” he asked gently. 

She nodded again.

“When did you join Starfleet?”

“I graduated from the Academy eight months ago.”

“Did you always want to be in Starfleet?” Harry asked.

“Yes, though my mother’s expectations were for me to join the family business.” Ezri gave a brief laugh. “Not that it was something I would ever consider.”

Harry shifted his feet restlessly, acutely aware of the passing time, but at the same time loath to end their conversation. “Listen,” he said, “I’m really sorry, but I—”

“You need to go, of course, I understand,” Ezri said hurriedly. “You’ve been very nice to talk to me, but I don’t want to keep you.”

“A group of us are running a program on holodeck one,” Harry said apologetically. “We’ve pooled our time, so we have a block of four hours, and I’m already a bit late.” It was still hard to remember that _Voyager_ now had three holodecks; none of them were reserved for communal programs. On the spur of the moment, he said, “Why don’t you join me?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Ezri demurred. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your friends.”

“You’re not intruding, I invited you,” Harry countered. “Come on, you’ll have fun.” 

“Well…” Ezri wavered.

Harry decided to take that as a ‘yes.’ “OK, then it’s settled. See you in a bit.”

A short time later, Harry stood waiting for Ezri outside the holodeck and smiled when he saw her approach. Now that she wasn’t crying, he could see that she was quite attractive. He was also glad to see she’d taken his advice to wear something ‘tropical’ and had switched her uniform for a pale-yellow sundress. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said, as he ushered her inside. “This is an old program we used to run back in the Delta Quadrant.” He paused on the threshold of the beach resort, suddenly unsure how she would react. 

“Oh, this is lovely!” Ezri exclaimed, turning in a circle to take in the sandy vista. Harry tried to see it through her eyes. Off to one side, near the cabana, tables and chairs were scattered in a shaded area. The people sitting at them sipped at drinks inside coconut shells and adorned with colorful little paper umbrellas. Mike Ayala and Jenny Delaney waved in greeting. He craned his neck but didn’t see Tom or B’Elanna; presumably they’d be arriving soon. Beyond the sand the blue-green waves rolled in, the roar of the surf muted. Sea birds flew overhead or fought over scraps with raucous cries.

“I can see why you wore that,” Ezri said in amusement, as she gestured at Harry’s bright red and orange Hawaiian shirt. 

Harry grinned. “I won’t be the only one, that is, if Tom’s wife doesn’t talk him out of wearing his.” He slipped his hand under Ezri’s elbow and guided her to an empty table. “Tom Paris, our pilot, created this program. It’s one of the communal programs we used to run.”

“Very impressive. He’s certainly talented.” She accepted a drink – this one inside a cup that resembled a pineapple - and took a sip, then removed the little umbrella and twirled it between her fingers absently.

Harry smiled. “So, Ezri, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? For starters, where are you from, and what kind of business is your family in?”

“I’m from New Sydney, in the Sappora system,” Ezri began. “My mother is a successful mining magnate on Sappora VII, and she had her heart set on my working with her, but I’m more of a people person, you know? Anyway…”

Harry leaned back to listen, and then to tell stories of his own family and background, paying no attention to the curious glances and amused looks the two of them were attracting.

***

Tighe leaned over the holographic map display. 

“There,” he said. “This door leads to a 300-meter-long tunnel, which ends directly under another corridor near the main power conduit for the facility. That will be our entry point.”

Tighe looked around the room at the members of his strike force. The four men, ostensibly new members of _Voyager_’s security department, were all seasoned hand-picked Section 31 operatives who had worked with him on previous missions. 

They had gathered in Tighe’s quarters; the cabin afforded them a private meeting place without attracting any outside attention. Truth be told, he didn’t have much other use for the room, considering he spent most of his nights in Kathryn’s quarters. 

Nemov stirred uneasily in his chair, a frown of concentration on his normally placid face. “I don’t like the route from the landing site to the main complex. Too exposed.”

“But the distance is shorter,” argued Roark. “And we’ll be landing on the night side of the planet. The cover of darkness should be enough until we’re inside.”

“Even if we’re undetected, getting in is the easy part,” Nemov said. “But once inside, we’ll have to bring down the shield to get back out.”

“Which reminds me,” Tighe said, “Phelps, what about our firepower? Will we be able to carry enough incendiaries to destroy the entire breeding facility? Halfway measures won’t do us any good. By my calculations, we’ll need a blast force of at least five kilotons to produce a destruction radius of 1.6 kilometers.”

“It should be enough,” Phelps, the resident munitions expert, said briefly. He pointed at the display. “If we set the charges here, and here, it should be sufficient to set off a cascade reaction and bring the rest down.” He smiled tightly. “And once the security force field goes down, we won’t have any problem getting back out.”

“But we’re counting heavily on the element of surprise to get in,” said Jondi, who had been silent until now. “We need to work on our timing as we go through the security laser sweeps. In the last simulation, we were running nearly 3.4 seconds behind schedule.” He didn’t add that that could be the difference between life and death.

“Agreed,” Tighe said. “It’s a good thing we have another few days to run through the scenario again and make improvements before we reach our destination.” He manipulated the holodisplay until it shifted from the facility interior on the planet to a map of the surrounding space. “I discussed navigational details with the pilot, Paris, and gave him the coordinates for the primary target, as well as the secondary.” 

“Why the primary? We’re taking a shuttle in, after all,” Roark said. “I thought _Voyager_ is only handling the secondary target.”

“Because we’ll need to rendezvous with _Voyager_ afterward,” Tighe said patiently, even though they’d discussed this just the previous evening. “The two targets are three light years apart, and the attacks need to be carried out simultaneously.”

“Is the captain aware of the true scope of our mission?” asked Nemov. 

“No,” said Tighe in a measured tone that didn’t reveal his inner trepidation. “I’ll notify her when the time is right.” 

“You always did play things too close to the vest,” Jondi said, shaking his head. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Tighe said curtly, returning his gaze. Jondi had been a member of his team dating back to the days when he regularly ran field operations, and knew better than most people exactly what the downside was when Starfleet officers in a position of authority interfered in missions that were not their concern; it was a lesson they’d both learned firsthand many years ago. 

Jondi sighed. “In other words, what the captain doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“That’s right,” Tighe said as he turned back to the holodisplay. “Next point, the disposition of armed guards within the facility…”


	13. Chapter 13

Janeway entered her quarters after her shift was over and stopped short. Tall candles provided most of the illumination, and in the dimmer than usual light, she could see the small dining table was nicely set, with a bottle of Chardonnay cooling in the ice bucket. She became aware of a most appetizing aroma in the air, coming from the dishes that Tighe was in the process of removing from the replicator. 

“What a nice surprise,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. “I didn’t expect you to have dinner ready.”

“Special occasion,” he said. “We’re almost out of the Badlands and will be engaging the quantum drive soon. I thought we’d mark the successful completion of the first stage of our mission.” And it _had_ been successful – over the past two weeks, they hadn’t run into any official Cardassian patrols; there had been just one near encounter with a single ship that _Voyager_ had easily evaded.

Janeway eyed Justin’s casual slacks, and the pale blue cotton shirt which was buttoned only part way up his chest. “Maybe I should take off my uniform.”

He grinned. “I confess, that _was_ my intention, but I thought you might want to eat first.” 

Color rose to her cheeks, but she smiled as she said, “You know what I meant.”

They sat down to eat. Justin watched as she took her first mouthful of the chicken and rice dish. “What do you think?”

“I like it very much,” Janeway said, immediately taking another bite. “It reminds me of a meal I had long ago; maybe my grandmother’s biryani? But the spicing is subtly different.”

“It’s actually Elaysian,” Justin said. “I came across the dish recently and thought I’d try out the replicator codes.”

“It’s delicious,” she answered and accepted the glass of wine he handed her. “You know, it’s funny, but I’m not used to eating so many replicated meals in my quarters. On _Voyager_’s previous mission, even if I had the available rations, I usually felt compelled to eat in the Mess Hall as a show of support for Neelix. Or at least his cooking.” She smiled fondly. “Dear Neelix. I wonder how he’s doing on Earth? I remember him saying something about wanting to open a restaurant.” She looked down at her plate for a moment. “I miss him.”

“Not surprising, considering you saw him every day for the past four years. And now you’re back on _Voyager_, but he isn’t with you.”

Janeway started involuntarily. Justin’s words made her think of the others who weren’t on board this time around - like Chakotay. She felt the familiar stab of regret when she thought of her former first officer, and how things had ended between them.

She looked up to meet Justin’s gaze. Obviously guessing who she was thinking of, Tighe said, “I’m sure you miss Chakotay as well.”

“I do,” she said honestly.

“He’s a good man,” Tighe observed. “Not what I expected; he’s a pretty straight arrow, for a Maquis.” 

“Yes, I was fortunate that he was the leader of the cell I was ordered to capture,” Janeway said, her tone casual. “Maybe it was his Starfleet background that made him amenable to accepting my proposal to join forces, but his cooperation and willingness went a long way toward helping meld the two crews in the beginning.” She took a sip of wine. “I know I could easily have ended up with someone a lot more antagonistic.” 

“His personal feelings toward you probably helped as well,” Tighe leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her face. “He certainly didn’t keep them a secret. Speaking of which, I’m curious--did Chakotay ever make his move?” He paused, as if trying to gauge her reaction. “After all, you _were_ on the ship together for several more weeks after I left.” 

“He did,” she said evenly. “But I turned him down.” _Because of you,_ she added silently.

Tighe’s expression changed subtly. “Huh. I guess I’m both surprised and not surprised to hear this, because I could tell there was definitely an attraction - on both sides.” He added, “Though maybe his feelings ran deeper than yours.”

She closed her eyes, assailed by a sudden memory.

_“It’s a simple choice. When we get back to Earth, do you want to try to make a go of it with me? Or are you planning on looking up Tighe and continuing where you left off?”_

_“Chakotay, I will always care for you. I couldn’t have made it through the last few years without you. But I don’t...” she trailed off, unwilling to hurt him more than she already had._

_“But you don’t love me,” he finished. “It’s Tighe, isn’t it?”_

_“Yes.” She swallowed, knowing she and Justin had already given it a shot once before and had failed miserably. But the thought of not trying again was unacceptable._

She wondered suddenly if Justin felt threatened by Chakotay. “Well, Phoebe always did accuse me of being a serial monogamist,” Janeway said lightly, hoping to deflect any further inquiries.

Tighe picked up his fork and resumed eating. “So, only one man at a time?” he said, matching her tone. 

“That’s usually been the case for me,” she answered. She reached across the table and took his hand. “Do you remember that night at the restaurant, back on Earth,” she said softly, “about a month after _Voyager_ returned?” 

He nodded. 

“I told you then we had unfinished business. I want to see it through, see what happens with us.” She looked at him questioningly, almost holding her breath while waiting for his answer.

Tighe hesitated almost imperceptibly, then squeezed her hand in return. “I’m in it for as long as it lasts. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Good,” Janeway said, feeling the inner knot of worry ease a bit, though she was fully aware of what had been left unsaid. 

***

Seven stood outside the captain’s quarters and signaled again.

Janeway answered the door and Seven suddenly realized that it was late in the evening. She hadn’t even considered the time until she saw the captain was wearing a robe, and her usually well-groomed hair was tousled, as if she’d been asleep. 

“What is it, Seven?” Janeway asked, her concern evident in her voice. “Is there something the matter?”

“I need to talk to you,” Seven said, then hesitated. “But I was unaware of the time; I do not wish to disturb you.” 

Janeway smiled ruefully. “Well, now that you’re here, you might as well come in and sit down.” She moved aside to allow Seven to enter.

Seven made her way to a chair in the living area, noticing in passing that the bedroom door was closed. 

Janeway sat down on the couch. “All right, Seven. What’s on your mind?”

“I went on a date this evening,” Seven began.

“A date?”

“Yes, a social interaction in which two individuals--”

“I’m aware of what a date is,” Janeway said dryly. “If I may ask, with whom?”

“Doctor Julian Bashir,” Seven said, adding, perhaps unnecessarily, “a recent addition to the medical staff.”

Janeway’s eyebrows rose in evident surprise, but she simply nodded. “Go on.” 

“I was very nervous before the evening began,” Seven said, starting with the preliminaries. “I had considered asking you or Lieutenant Torres for advice, but I decided I could perform my own research as to how conduct a successful date. Additionally, I observed the _Voyager_ crew and their social interactions many times during our previous mission, and deemed my preparation was sufficient.”

“What did you do on your date?”

“We went to the holodeck. I utilized the Sandrine program – not the original, but the one with the Doctor’s modifications.” Seven had always preferred the version in which the pool table was replaced with a piano.

With the captain’s encouragement, Seven continued to recount the evening.

_Julian looked around Sandrine’s, his interest in the details of the French bistro obvious. “Very impressive. The period details are just right.” He strode forward a few paces, then turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. “Different era, but in a way, this reminds me of Vic’s place.”_

_“Vic’s place?” Seven questioned._

_“A program we have back on Deep Space Nine. It’s a nightclub set in Las Vegas, circa 1960, created by a holoprogrammer friend of mine.” Julian smiled in reminiscence. “Vic is the headliner, the main singer, as well as owner of the establishment, and makes a personal connection with all of the clientele. He’s a real student of human nature, and a pretty good friend.” Julian gave her a sidelong glance, noting her confusion. “Vic is a self-aware hologram, along the lines of your EMH.”_

_“The EMH is a sentient photonic being, and has been declared as such by Starfleet Command,” Seven corrected him._

_“Yes, of course.” Julian drifted over to the piano off to the side of the bar. “Do you play?”_

_“No, I was assimilated at a very young age and did not have the opportunity to learn how.” Seven glanced at him. “Do you play?”_

_In response, he sat down and began to play what she recognized as an old jazz standard called “Heart and Soul.” Seven watched, fascinated; other than Lieutenant Kim and **Voyager**’s Doctor, she had rarely observed anyone play an actual instrument. “That was very good,” she said when he finished._

_He waved her words away. “I was just fooling around a bit, though I did take lessons for a number of years, at my mother’s insistence.” His face changed subtly as he said the last part. “Shall we order dinner?”_

In the present, Seven said, “I thought the evening proceeded well, though occasionally there were some awkward silences during the meal.”

“And then?” Janeway prompted her.

“The computer announced my time allotment was almost up, and so we left the holodeck.” Seven shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “He escorted me to my quarters and said he had had a nice time.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I responded that I had enjoyed his company as well. And then I asked him if he wished to come inside and copulate.” She fell silent, remembering the look of total astonishment that crossed Julian’s face, his immediate refusal, and then his quick retreat. “He did not. I do not understand why he rejected my offer. Did I do something wrong?” 

Janeway rested her hand against her forehead for a long moment, then met Seven’s questioning gaze. “I can’t say for certain, but it sounds from what you just told me that things were going well until you said goodnight. What do _you_ think was the issue?”

Seven was silent for a moment. “It was my offer of copulation, wasn’t it?”

Janeway nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“I am confused why Julian did not wish to copulate,” Seven said. “He was clearly interested in me, as evidenced by his always approaching me to talk when he sees me in the ship’s corridors, and he did state a desire to spend time with me on the holodeck.” She added, “Surely he did not deem my physical appearance to be sub-standard. My mammary glands are larger than those of any other female on board, and I had been given to understand that this is a major reason human males are attracted—”

Janeway cut her off firmly. “Seven, that’s not the only reason a man wants to have sex with a woman.”

"I know the primary purpose is procreation, but is there not an element of pleasure as well?”

Janeway doggedly plowed ahead. “Yes, physical attraction _is_ important, but you can also be attracted to someone’s intellect, or sense of humor or any of a number of things, or for how being with someone makes you feel.” Seven opened her mouth to speak, but Janeway wasn’t finished yet. “There’s also love, a sense of caring deeply about another person. When any of these factors are present, sex itself is more than just a physical action.”

“So sex is not the most important part of a relationship?” Seven asked curiously. “That statement contradicts what I have observed among the crew.”

“Sex _is_ an important part,” Janeway said immediately. “But not the _most_ important. Love and understanding and trust - those are the most important, the keys to a good relationship.” 

Seven was silent as she considered Janeway’s words.

The captain leaned forward and put her hand on Seven’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Look at it this way, you had a first date which was more or less successful, except for some awkwardness at the end. Not all dates end in sex, by the way; a first date often doesn’t. Sometimes it takes longer to get to that point, particularly when a couple is just getting to know each other. In general, it’s a good idea not to rush intimacy. So I think it may be a good thing he didn’t take you up on your offer.”

“You think it was a good thing Julian rejected me?” Seven asked. 

“No, I don’t mean that – what I mean is that his rejection meant you didn’t end up having sex, which you may or may not have been ready for. It’s up to you to decide - you shouldn’t feel pressured to do _anything_ you don’t want to do or feel comfortable with, or to conform to ‘popular’ expectations about relationships. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise,” Janeway stressed. “Not that I think Doctor Bashir would take advantage of you. On the contrary, his behavior toward you was entirely respectful. Perhaps,” Janeway suggested gently, “it’s too soon for you to think about dating and sex, as you are still getting used to social situations and interacting with different individuals. Maybe just stick with getting to know people for now and seeing how things play out.”

Seven nodded in agreement. Julian’s rejection of her offer still stung, but deep down, she couldn’t deny the sense of relief flooding through her.

***

The next morning, Tom caught up to Harry in line at the Mess Hall. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asked.

“Pretty good,” Harry said. He stepped up to the replicator. “Oatmeal, with maple sugar, raisins and chopped walnuts, and a glass of orange juice, cold.” He lifted the breakfast tray that materialized and gestured with his chin toward a table. “I’m going to sit down.”

Tom quickly ordered his own breakfast – pancakes and sausage – and joined his friend. He picked up the communal coffee pot on the table and poured himself a cup. “So, how was it last night in the beach holoprogram?”

Harry took a spoonful of his oatmeal. “The luau was very nice. We missed you.”

Tom smiled apologetically. “Yeah, as it turned out, B’Elanna and I had a few things to catch up on. Privately.”

Harry grinned in turn. “Understandable, after all, you guys are still newlyweds!” He took a sip of juice. “We still had a decent turnout, and I think everyone had a good time.”

“Glad to hear,” Tom said. He waited, but there was nothing more forthcoming. He tried again, “I heard there were some additions to the usual crowd.” He took a bite of sausage. “One in particular. A very _interesting_ addition.” 

Harry gave him a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Harry, you can tell me,” Tom said in a confidential tone. “After all, if you’re going out in public together, you’re not exactly keeping it a secret.”

Harry sighed. “If you’re referring to Ezri, yes, I asked her to join me at the beach resort yesterday evening.”

_That was more like it._ “So, how long have you and Counselor Tigan been seeing each other?” Tom asked eagerly.

“We’re not ‘seeing each other’,” Harry said defensively.

“You invited her out to the holodeck; sounds like a date to me.”

Harry laid down his spoon, clearly having lost interest in his breakfast. “I saw her earlier, in the lounge, and she looked like she was upset about something. We started talking, and then it was time for the gathering on the holodeck, and it just seemed natural to ask her if she’d like to come along.”

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Tom said, in mock disapproval. “I can’t believe you fell for yet another damsel in distress.” 

“That’s not very nice, Tom,” Harry said sternly. 

“I just think it’s interesting you’ve taken up with the new ship’s counselor, that’s all. Didn’t mean to offend you.” Tom took a mouthful of pancake, chewed and swallowed. “It’s good you’re socializing, Harry. Glad to see you getting out of the rut you’ve been in since before we got home. And you’re not the only one, for that matter.” He lowered his voice. “According to ship’s gossip, Seven has been seen lately in the company of that new doctor from Deep Space Nine.” 

“Well, good for Seven, that she’s getting some more social interactions and making new friends,” Harry said matter-of-factly. 

Tom looked at him in surprise. “I’m glad to hear you say that.” He considered mentioning how obvious it was that Harry had carried a torch for the former Borg for much of the past year but thought better of it. Aloud, he said, “But I suppose since you’ve moved on, even if it is with the _counselor_ of all people--”

Harry interrupted. “Look, Tom, Ezri is _very_ nice, she’s cute, and she’s just trying to do her job. She may come off as a bit needy, but if you ask me, the crew really should be cutting her some slack.”

“A _bit_needy?” Tom said in disbelief. “Haven’t you heard the stories going around--” 

“You know as well as I do that during our DQ years, we could have really used a counselor; it’s probably a good thing we’ve got one now,” Harry said firmly. “It’s mandated for all the ships in the fleet, regardless of size, due to the constant combat missions and the stress that entails.” He paused. “If you ask me, it’s a welcome development.” 

Tom put up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not personally opposed to the idea of a counselor,” he said defensively, pushing back the memories of the counseling sessions he’d been forced to undergo during his incarceration in New Zealand. During the DQ years, the _Voyager_ crew had gotten used to depending on each other to provide physical, as well as moral, support in times of distress. Chakotay had also acted as an official counselor for many of them, such as B’Elanna - and the captain. “But I wonder who thought it was a good idea to put a raw, inexperienced ensign on board _Voyager_ in that role.” He shook his head in bemusement. “Seriously, our crew’s probably got enough accumulated trauma to scare off even a seasoned veteran.”

“All the more reason we should all give Ezri a chance to prove herself,” Harry said as he began eating once more. 

“You’re right,” Tom said, sincerely. “I’m sorry I’ve been giving you a hard time, and I’m willing to cut the counselor some slack.” He grinned. “You know I’ve always been a big believer in second chances.”   
Harry gave him a grateful look. 

“So tell me, what’s she like?”


	14. Chapter 14

_Captain’s log, stardate 52152.6. After two and a half weeks spent traversing the Badlands, we are ready to use the new quantum drive to reach the Gamma Quadrant, and so our mission can finally be said to begin. While the quantum drive worked well enough the first time, it’s undergone a lot of improvements since our return. According to both my chief engineer and Commander Tighe, the quantum drive is more stable, and doesn’t require as much hands-on attention and constant adjustments as it did during our initial voyage back from the Delta Quadrant. As a bonus, it’s also easier to switch between it and the regular warp drive. _

Janeway looked around the bridge; the thrill of anticipation among the crew was almost palpable. To her left, she noted, Tuvok received the last-minute data reports from Engineering. Tom Paris sat ready at the helm, while Harry Kim had taken his station at Ops. Behind her, she could hear the low tones of the conversation between Tighe and Hareven at the science station.

“Sensors show that space is clear,” said Ayala from Tactical. “No sign of any vessels for 100 parsecs in any direction.”

Janeway stood. “Engineering, engage the deflector,” she ordered.

“Understood,” Torres said over the com. After only a few moments, she said, “Energy build nearing 98 percent…preparing to activate the relays…” 

Janeway nodded at Paris. “Full impulse power…now.”

***

As they were about to engage the quantum drive, B’Elanna Torres looked around Engineering and couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d done this. They’d had no guarantee of success, despite Tighe’s earlier arrival in the DQ in the much smaller scout ship equipped with the same drive. They’d set out mostly on a wing and a prayer, as Tom had put it afterward. Seeing so many new faces now, B’Elanna felt a sharp pang of loss at the absence of her former engineering crew, like Joe Carey, who were no longer on board. Now, Lieutenants Sterman and Renfrew occupied the ancillary positions, with Nicoletti and Vorik at the key stations. B’Elanna herself would engage the deflector and oversee the energy build.

It was also strange not having Tighe there, though he _was_ onboard, albeit in a different capacity this time. Despite her slight nervousness, B’Elanna knew, deep down, that she was fully capable of doing this on her own and thrilled to the challenge.

***

The delta-epsilon wave pattern of the quantum field appeared on the bridge’s main viewscreen, and _Voyager_ sprang to meet it.

“Variation in the sinal node at 0.005,” Kim reported. “Well within normal range.”

“Steady as she goes, Mr. Paris.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” 

Janeway braced herself for the turbulence they’d experienced last time at this stage, but the ship remained stable. 

For a long moment, the bridge crew stared in silence at the crystalline structure that was the physical manifestation of the wave. “This isn’t the first time I’ve ever seen this, but it doesn’t get old,” Ayala said, a note of awe in his voice.

Hareven said, “It _is_ my first time, and I find this just as enthralling.”

Sitting back down, Janeway said, “I hope you don’t tire of the view, Mr. Hareven, but it _is_ going to be a long ride.”

“Forty point seven hours, to be exact,” Tuvok said, “plus or minus a factor of three.”

***

“Ready for the first hop now,” Nicoletti reported.

Torres nodded. “Initiating.” She looked up at the display showing _Voyager_’s progress in real time. She found herself holding her breath as she felt a slight jarring motion, and then the ship begin to rapidly accelerate.

“Ensign Jor, monitor the matter-antimatter matrix and call out the variances,” B’Elanna said. “Vorik, you can--”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Torres,” Holland interrupted. “But I think _I_ should handle the matter-antimatter matrix instead.” 

“I told Jor to do it,” B’Elanna said tersely. 

“It makes sense for the most senior person present - other than yourself, of course - to handle such a sensitive area as the matrix,” Holland objected.

B’Elanna firmly overruled her. “Jor has the necessary experience, based on our previous use of the quantum drive.” Her eyes met Holland’s, daring her to say another word.

Incredibly, Holland did just that. “Besides practice in our drills, I ran a simulation on my own on the holodeck, Lieutenant Torres. I’m sure I can handle it.” 

B’Elanna was about to respond angrily to this challenge, when T’Lara suddenly interjected, “Lieutenant Holland, the total amount of time we will be using the quantum drive is estimated to be between 37 and 43 hours. As that time frame spans multiple duty shifts, it can be assumed that each member of the engineering crew will have an opportunity to cover many, if not all, of the basic tasks that utilizing the drive entails.” 

Holland stirred, but subsided at the Vulcan’s rebuke. 

B’Elanna gave T’Lara a grateful look. “Next, monitoring the plasma relays. Vorik, that will be your task.”

***

Tearing his glance away from the mesmerizing view outside the Mess Hall viewports, Bashir scanned the room, looking for one person in particular. Just when he was about to give up, he spotted her next to one of the replicators.

“Hello, Annika,” he said when he caught up with her.

Annika reacted in surprise. “Hello.” 

“I haven’t seen you around for the past day or two,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward. 

“Although I am no longer Borg, I must still undergo a full 16-hour regeneration cycle every eight days,” she said stiffly. 

“Ah, that explains it.” He smiled. “I didn’t really think you were hiding.”

Annika didn’t respond as she retrieved her lentil salad from the replicator chamber and made her way to an unoccupied table in the far corner of the room. Bashir quickly followed. 

“May I can join you?” he asked. 

“Why?” 

Bashir realized that he hadn’t selected any food for himself. “I want to talk to you.” 

“As far as I am concerned, you said everything that was necessary at the conclusion of our date,” she said coolly.

He understood immediately what she was referring to and inwardly cringed. “I’m sorry. I want to explain…Look, Annika, may I sit down?”

“As you wish,” she said, spearing a cherry tomato on her fork and placing it in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed. “Though I do not know why I should give you another opportunity to hurt my feelings,” she said bluntly. 

“That was not my intention and I’m sorry if that’s how it came across to you,” Bashir said steadily. “Though I have to admit, your ‘offer’ when we said goodnight took me by surprise. Not that the prospect of physical intimacy was unpleasant, mind you, but it was…surprising,” he said again, cursing himself for seemingly being unable to come up with another word.

She looked at him in disbelief. “Surprised at the idea of having sex with me? Isn’t that what you had in mind when you first began paying attention to me?”

“I also found you interesting to talk to, and I wanted to get to know you better,” Bashir protested. “You’re also very attractive, and I admit I was thinking along the lines of a physical relationship as well, though I didn’t expect it to come up quite so soon.” He paused. “But I should have known better. Annika, I would never take advantage of you.”

“Take advantage in me in what way?” she said, lifting her chin. “As you recall, it was _I_ who propositioned _you_.”

“Physically, you’re a beautiful, fully mature woman. Your outward persona is sophisticated and polished, so much so it’s easy to forget you spent the last 18 years as part of the Borg Collective,” Bashir said, meeting her gaze. “And therefore, you are really much younger than your chronological age.” He paused. “If anything physical _had_ happened between us, I _would_ have been taking advantage of you.”

“I am not a child either,” Annika pointed out. “I have been living as an individual, fully capable of being self-sufficient, for more than a year. I make my own decisions, about what I want, who I associate with, and what I do with my body.”

Bashir nodded, feeling chastened. “I suppose I shouldn’t have tried to make the decision for you.”

Annika continued, “While I was initially interested in you as a potential romantic partner, I have since given the matter further thought. I now feel I would be better served by a friend at this point in my life.” She gave him a questioning glance. “If you would be willing to be that friend.

“I would be honored,” he said with a smile.

***

“Bridge to Captain Janeway.”

Kathryn reached across the bed to answer the comm unit. “Janeway here,” she said, quickly adding, “audio only.”

“Captain, we will be disengaging the quantum drive in another 1.3 hours and returning to normal space,” Tuvok’s voice said over the comm. “At normal warp, it will then take approximately 6 to 8 hours before we arrive at our target coordinates.” 

She eased herself into a more comfortable position against the headboard, and glanced over at Justin, who was still lying on his side but had propped himself up on one elbow. “Thank you, Commander Tuvok. I’ll be on the bridge shortly.”

“If you could, Captain, please inform Commander Tighe as well,” Tuvok said dryly.

Justin grinned. “Thank you, Tuvok,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “Message received.”

“Janeway out.” Kathryn abruptly closed the contact and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to pull the sheets up to cover herself. She felt herself blushing at the thought Tuvok must have known exactly what she’d just been doing. 

Justin cast a languid glance in her direction. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed at being caught _in flagrante delicto_,” he said, his amusement evident. 

“I’m not…all right, fine. I _am_ a little embarrassed.”

“Why?” Tighe asked. “Tuvok is your first officer, not your father. What difference does it make if he knows you’re indulging in some ‘extracurricular pursuits’ when you’re off duty?” He chuckled. “Though I have to admit, I’d be less kindly disposed toward Tuvok if his call had come just five minutes earlier.” He sat up and stretched, then swung his legs off the side of the bed, preparatory to getting up.

Janeway looked at him, struck by his choice of words. _Extracurricular pursuits._ It sounded like he considered what was happening between them as just a casual fling, nothing of great importance. Was sex all that there was between them? She was suddenly reminded of when they had met on board the _Icarus_, so many years ago. Tighe had had the reputation of being quite the player, with a woman on the side for many if not most of his postings. He’d admitted as much to her, when she’d confessed she was falling in love with him after the rescue mission on Urtea II. He’d changed, of course, when their involvement developed into something more serious, and they’d gone on to get married a few short months later. 

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she also remembered the rumors of Tighe’s infidelity that Owen Paris had brought to her attention, during the turbulent period right before their marriage ended. When confronted, Tighe hadn’t exactly denied them. She quickly reminded herself of his recent response, when she’d asked where their relationship was going. _I’m in it as long as it lasts._ The words suddenly took on a different, more ominous meaning. 

She became aware he was looking at her in concern. “Kathryn, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, though her words sounded unconvincing in her own ears. She took a deep breath. “Do you want to shower first?”

He gave her a long, slow smile. “Is there a law we have to go one at a time?”

“No,” she said and summoned a smile of her own. “There isn’t.”

Forty-five minutes later, they stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge together, looking every inch the consummate professional officers.


	15. Chapter 15

“Approaching the target coordinates,” Harry Kim said from the Ops station. 

Janeway nodded. After disengaging the quantum drive, they’d enabled the cloaking device almost immediately and had been traveling at regular warp speed for the past 6.8 hours. Their luck had held, and they’d encountered no Dominion ships during the interim. “Helm, prepare to drop out of warp at my mark,” she said. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Tom Paris replied.

“What is the status of the cloaking device?” asked Tuvok. 

“Cloak is at 94 percent integrity,” Ayala said, glancing at Tighe who stood near the captain’s position. 

“We are still well within the 18-hour time frame that the cloak can remain in continuous operation,” Hareven commented. “Is the drop in cloak integrity a cause for concern, Commander Tighe?”

“No,” Tighe said briefly. “As I explained to Lieutenant Torres while we were installing the cloak, as long as we don’t exceed our current speed, the integrity can drop as low as 68 percent and still maintain the phasing effect.”

“Can we expect further drop-off the longer the cloak is engaged?” asked Tuvok.

“It depends on a variety of factors, including relative speed, the matter-anti-matter matrix, and so on,” Tighe said. “Based on our proximity to the target, you’ll be fully covered until we come within range, and then you’ll need to drop the cloak anyway to fire on the Dominion facility.”

“But we won’t be uncloaked for long,” Kim said, as though looking for reassurance. “You said the latency period before we can re-engage the cloak is only 4.7 seconds.” 

Tighe didn’t reply as he moved around the bridge, coming to a halt near the helm where he could see the console display. “There,” Tighe said abruptly, laying his hand on one particular area. “Drop out of warp now, Lieutenant Paris.”

Tom turned slightly in his chair and gave Janeway a questioning look.

Janeway nodded. “Do it.” He immediately complied.

Janeway looked at her own console readout and frowned. “Are you certain of these coordinates?” she asked Paris.

“Yes, ma’am,” Paris said. “These are the coordinates Commander Tighe gave me earlier.”

Janeway rose to her feet. “Lieutenant Kim,” she said. “Confirm our position. Are we at the Loralian system?” 

“Checking,” Kim said, his fingers flying over his board. “No, Captain. Sensors indicate we’re a little more than three light years away from the Loralian system.”

“Where are we?” Janeway asked sharply. “What is the nearest star system?”

“Korel.”

Ayala said, “Isn’t the ketracel white manufacturing installation in the _Loralian_ system? What’s in Korel?”

Janeway suddenly realized what was going on. “Full stop,” she ordered. “Commander Tighe, I want to speak with you in my Ready Room. Now.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, she whirled around to face him. “What are you playing at, Commander?”

“What do you mean?” he said warily.

“Why did we come to the Gamma Quadrant?” He opened his mouth to speak, but Janeway wasn’t finished yet. “This isn’t the Loralian system, so clearly we didn’t come to destroy the ketracel white facility. Instead, you specified we stop at _these_ coordinates, which just happen to be very close to the Jem’Hadar breeding complex.” She tried to keep her voice down, but inwardly she was seething. “That’s your real target, isn’t it? The ketracel white was just a decoy.”

“The ketracel white facility is also important,” Tighe insisted. “The plan is to destroy that as well. But you’re right; the primary target is the breeding facility.” He moved closer, his eyes intent on her face. “We’re not just going to reduce the number of Jem’Hadar troops but prevent them from making any more soldiers.”

“You’re putting my ship at grave risk to--”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “My strike team and I will take the _Darwin_ to Korel III, where the breeding facility is located, infiltrate the complex, and set the charges to detonate. _Voyager_ won’t be involved at all.” 

The _Darwin_ was warp-capable; she inhaled sharply, understanding now why it had been included in _Voyager_’s complement of shuttles. 

Tighe continued, “Meanwhile, _Voyager_ will proceed to the Loralian system and destroy the ketracel white facility. We’ll rendezvous with you afterward.”

_His strike team_. He meant members of her crew who were under her command in name only; they really reported to him. _There were Section 31 agents on board her ship, with their own agenda._ She tried, unsuccessfully, to tamp down her rising anger. Aloud, she said, “This is no longer about depriving the Jem’Hadar of an essential drug they need to keep them from going insane. You’re talking about _genocide_.” Her voice rose. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Need to know,” he said tersely. “I learned the hard way from Owen Paris not to divulge mission details to a ship’s captain until it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Damn it, this is my ship!” Janeway said angrily. “As the captain, I have the right to know what you’re planning, especially as it increases the danger you’re putting _my_ ship in.”

“I told you, _Voyager_ won’t be in any danger, at least not more than you were already aware of. Unlike the breeding complex, the ketracel white facility defenses are minimal. With the cloaking device, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me about the scope of this mission.” She anticipated his next words. “A lie of omission, but still a lie.”

He took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell you earlier about the multiple targets because I already knew what your reaction would be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she challenged.

“Even if I had tried to explain, you wouldn’t have listened,” Tighe said heatedly. “You weren’t happy about this mission to begin with, and you’ve pushed back against me practically every step of the way. Your reaction when I unveiled the cloaking device was all I needed to see.” 

“There’s a hell of a difference between using a cloaking device in defiance of our treaty with the Romulans and proposing to wipe out an entire sentient species!”

He moved closer until they were standing practically toe to toe. “A regional conflict has exploded into a war spanning multiple galactic quadrants, and you need to figure out what part you want to play in this,” he said. “We've gotten to the point where all principled actions have failed and something _has_ to change. You have a choice to make, Kathryn—either you help this last-gasp mission succeed, or you can stand by and watch the Federation in its death throes.”

“If this is what the Federation is capable of, I don’t know if it’s worth saving at any cost,” she said, her fists clenched in rage, and then recoiled at the sentiment she’d just expressed. Had she really meant that? “This isn’t the Starfleet I remember.”

“Things have changed,” Tighe said. “Out of necessity, we’re at the point where it’s kill or be killed. You can take my word for it.” At her lack of response, his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Or can you? I guess I’m good enough for you to fuck, but you don’t trust me, you’ve never given me the benefit of the doubt about _anything_.”

“Trust has nothing to do it,” she said, belatedly striving to calm down. “Though your track record _does_ leave much to be desired.”

His expression darkened. “Do you really want to bring that up now?”

“You’re right, now is neither the time nor the place for it.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand: you’re telling me that you’re calling the shots on board _my_ ship whether I like it or not.”

“It’s your ship, but it’s _my_ mission,” he reminded her as he met her gaze unflinchingly. “Do you trust me to do what’s right?”

Still seething inwardly, she didn’t answer.

He straightened up. “If there’s nothing else, Captain, I have a mission to see to,” he said and left the Ready Room.

***

Lieutenant Alice Holland didn’t mind being on duty during Gamma shift; she welcomed the semi-isolation - and the opportunity to perform her engineering duties by the book, instead of utilizing the shortcuts and, at times, outright disregard of regulations that the chief engineer seemed to prefer.

At this moment, Holland was working in one of the more isolated areas of Engineering, running a level four diagnostic on the plasma relay junctions. Although she hadn’t been involved in the operation of the cloaking device so far, she was aware the relays could overload if the cloak was in use for longer than the specified period. She hummed tunelessly under her breath as she worked, when the sound of approaching footsteps made her look up.

“Excuse me, where do you think you’re going?” Holland said, a bit haughtily. To her surprise, her words were ignored. _This is too much,_ she thought to herself. It was bad enough that Engineering was run in a woefully unprofessional manner, but she was addressing someone who should have known better, and who up to now had shown no inclination to disobey orders. “Lieutenant Torres said that area is off limits, except to authorized personnel. _You_ haven’t been assigned to work on the cloak.”

The person she addressed turned around slowly. “You are correct, Lieutenant Holland,” she said. “This section is indeed off-limits.” Suddenly, she lunged at Holland.

Holland instinctively raised her arms in an attempt to ward off her attacker, but the other woman was too strong – and fast – for her. Holland felt a sharp pain tear through both knees as they were kicked out from under her; her head made violent contact with the floor. As her vision clouded and her consciousness faded, her last sight was of a hand reaching for the contact points on her face. 

The assailant rose to her feet and dragged Holland’s unconscious form out of sight.

***

Tight watched as Dr. Bashir injected a subdermal tracker into Roark’s upper arm. Other than the strike team and the doctor, the shuttle bay was deserted. 

Roark winced. “Don’t remember this being so painful. You sure you know what you’re doing, Doc?”

“I assure you I do,” Bashir said, not looking up. “You’ve got a lot of scar tissue in that arm; that’s probably the source of your discomfort. When you return from your mission, we can see about removing it, if you wish.” He beckoned to Tighe. “Your turn, Commander.” 

Tighe rolled up the sleeve of his tight-fitting black sweater and was silent as the tracker went in. As Bashir began to put away his instruments, Tighe said, “Did you also bring the vials of rochelium-540, Doctor?”

“Rochelium-540 is a highly radioactive isotope,” Bashir said with a slight frown. “I’m not sure I understand why you requested it.”

"Have you heard of the ‘belt and suspenders approach’?" 

"So if you're captured and they remove the tracker, they won't be able to neutralize or remove the radioactive element," Bashir said immediately. "Not without draining every drop of blood from your body."

"In which case, the whole point of retrieval would be moot, correct?" Tighe said wryly.

Bashir pressed the hypospray against Tighe’s neck. "Based on the half-life, it will take approximately 72 hours for the isotope to clear from your system," Bashir said.

"That should be more than enough time," Tighe said, as he moved out of the way so the other men could receive their hypos.

"Of course, you'll be dead from radiation poisoning after about 36 hours," Bashir said, snapping his instrument cases shut. 

Tighe studied him for a moment, wondering if he should take the words at face value. "We'll try to make it back before then." 

“See to it that you do, Commander,” Bashir said and left the shuttle bay.

The strike team climbed aboard the _Darwin_ and began running through the preflight checks. 

Tighe lingered in the open hatch for a moment. “I’m sorry you’re not coming with us, Jondi,” he said to his trusted second-in-command. “But I need you here to take care of business.”

“Will do,” said Jondi. He clapped Tighe’s shoulder. “Good hunting, Justin.”

“Good hunting,” Tighe repeated and closed the hatch.

He sat in the pilot’s seat and enabled the automated launch sequence, then waited for the shuttle bay to depressurize. The vast doors opened, and he maneuvered the _Darwin_ to the entrance. “Exiting the bay now,” he said. “Full impulse.” After they cleared _Voyager_’s immediate region, they went to warp.

“Polarizing the hull, and applying electrostatic charges,” said Nemov, busy at the controls in the co-pilot seat next to Tighe. “Pattern matching complete. On any sensor scans, we’ll present as a Jem’Hadar fighter.”

“Too bad we don’t have a cloak of our own,” Phelps said, a bit wistfully.

“It’s where it will do the most good,” Tighe said sharply. 

“Agreed,” Nemov said. He entered a few more commands at his console. “Masking our warp signature now.”

“With any luck,” said Roark, “we won’t run into any ships in this system.”

“Even if we do, the real fun won’t begin until we land on the planet where the target is located,” Phelps said.

“It’s fun for _you_, Phelps, because you enjoy blowing things up,” Roark teased him. “Admit it, that’s why you’re here. You’re just in it for the pyrotechnics.”

“You know me too well,” Phelps rejoined.

Tighe paid no attention to his men’s banter; in his mind’s eye, he kept seeing Kathryn’s face, her anger at him evident, when she realized the truth about their mission. She _was_ correct about one thing – if both targets were destroyed, the Jem’Hadar would be almost completely wiped out within the span of a few months. Genocide was never a pleasant thought, but the fate of the Federation – and all the inhabitants of the Alpha Quadrant – hung in the balance. But Kathryn didn’t understand, let alone condone this action. After four years in the Delta Quadrant, she’d become too used to making her own decisions, deciding for herself from empirical evidence if something was right or wrong, orders be damned. 

Tighe briefly wondered if Ross had taken Kathryn’s independent streak into consideration when he’d assigned this covert mission to _Voyager_. For that matter, Tighe wasn’t too sure how Ross himself felt about it; Ross hadn’t revealed any of the details to Janeway, instead deferring to Tighe as the mission specialist. It was possible Ross hadn’t known what the mission’s true goal was, or maybe he’d just wanted to maintain plausible deniability when the full-scale destruction of the Jem’Hadar was revealed. Tighe could have told him it didn’t really matter one way or the other. The end result – and ensuing guilt – would be the same.

His thoughts drifted back to Kathryn. She’d always been opposed to Section 31; he remembered her reaction when she’d first learned of his involvement, so many years ago. Tighe knew full well her position hadn’t changed during her years in the Delta Quadrant. As a result, he’d known from the outset that this recent idyllic interlude together was too good to be true, and wouldn’t, couldn’t last.  
That knowledge didn’t take away the bitterness that any chance of a lasting relationship between them was irrevocably gone, or that he had only himself to blame. She would never forgive him for this final betrayal. But he also knew that given a choice to do it all over again, he could never have done things differently.

***

Janeway emerged from her Ready Room, her captain’s mask firmly in place. She tried not to think about the fact that Tighe would be leaving shortly with his strike team to deal with the breeding complex, instead choosing to concentrate on the mission at hand – to destroy the ketracel white facility. 

“Have we received new orders, Captain?” Tuvok asked as he stood to allow her access to the center seat.

“No,” she said. “Just a clarification. We will proceed with the mission as planned.”

“Captain, there’s an unauthorized shuttle launch in progress,” Harry said. “It’s the _Darwin_.”

Janeway kept her face expressionless. “Allow it, Mr. Kim. Commander Tighe and his team are making a slight detour.”

The ‘lift doors opened at that moment and a tall thin man, with a beaky nose and prominent Adam’s apple, entered the bridge. A yellow turtleneck was visible above his black and gray uniform jacket.  
“Captain Janeway,” he said coolly, “Lieutenant Jonathan Devers reporting for duty.”

Janeway narrowed her eyes; something about him was familiar. She searched deep within her memory, and then it came to her; the last time she’d seen this man had been on the freezing surface of Urtea II – he’d been helping her carry a badly wounded Tighe to the beam-out point. Jonathan Devers…Jon D..._Jondi_. “You're one of Tighe's men, aren't you?” she said.

“I'm here to assist you with the mission,” he said with a slight nod. “Help with the fine details as they arise.” 

“Have a seat,” Janeway said sharply. “I'll let you know when you’re needed.” She made her way to the command chair. “Mr. Paris, set a course for the Loralian system.”


	16. Chapter 16

“It’s a pity we’ll have to disengage the cloaking device soon,” Nicoletti said as she and B’Elanna walked toward the sequestered area of Engineering. “I could get used to this, flying invisibly toward our destination, not having to worry about getting shot at by any enemy vessels.”

“It _is_ pretty nice,” B’Elanna said, “except that we can’t fire weapons while cloaked. Besides, the cloak isn’t the same thing as a shield – it may discourage anyone from shooting at us, but it won’t be any help if someone _does_ detect our presence. Remember, a quantum beacon can track a phase-cloaked vessel, if the energy signature is known.”

“And the Dominion is certainly familiar with Starfleet warp signatures, including the one for an _Intrepid_ class vessel,” Nicoletti said with a sigh. “At least we’re not seeing a negative effect on the plasma relays at the moment. I was concerned about the high rate of energy consumption when the cloak is engaged, but so far so good.”

“I agree.” B’Elanna placed her hand on the side of the seemingly solid bulkhead; the force field shimmered and disappeared, revealing the cloaking device apparatus. She and Nicoletti moved toward the consoles and called up the latest readings. “How does it look to you now?”

“Stable,” Nicoletti replied, “but the phasing integrity is down to 72 percent.”

B’Elanna frowned. “Still within acceptable parameters, but that’s quite a drop from last time.” She made some quick adjustments. “Let’s see if this helps.”

“Maybe it’s related to the overall energy drain?” Nicoletti asked. 

“I ordered Holland to do a level four diagnostic on the plasma relay junctions, as the first signs of trouble would show up there,” B’Elanna said, striving to keep her tone neutral. Holland continued to get on her last nerve, always bringing up issues of purported negligence or failure to maintain Starfleet standards, and B’Elanna was growing heartily sick of it.

“What did she say in her report?” Nicoletti asked, her own lip curling in response. Holland’s attitude hadn’t endeared her to the other _Voyager_ veterans either.

“I haven’t heard from her,” B’Elanna said with a shrug. “But now that I think of it, she should have submitted it when she went off duty two hours ago.”

“Dereliction of duty?” said Nicoletti, her eyebrows rising in mock surprise. “Do you think they condone such behavior on the _Enterprise_?”

B’Elanna stepped back from the console. “Maybe she’s waiting to get a final reading right before we disengage the cloak.” Which would make the whole purpose of the diagnostic moot, as the energy consumption rates would immediately fall as soon as the cloak was dropped. “I’ll contact her when we’re done here.”

Nicoletti took up the central position B’Elanna had just vacated. “I’ll keep an eye on the overall power consumption along with phase integrity.”

“Great,” B’Elanna said, beginning to walk toward the main Engineering bay. “Everything has been going smoothly; it will probably be another half an hour to an hour until we’re in position and the captain will give the order to dis—” She stopped short at the sight of a shadow she hadn’t noticed previously; the way the bulkheads curved, this would have been hidden from her view when she was facing the other way. She moved in closer to investigate.

“What the hell?” B’Elanna dropped to her knees beside Holland’s body. She slapped her comm badge. “Engineering to Security – I’ve got a crewman down! Sickbay, request emergency medical assistance!”

Less than ten seconds later, she heard the whine of a transporter beam and the EMH appeared beside her, medical kit in hand. “Out of my way, Lieutenant,” the Doctor said brusquely as he leaned over Holland. B’Elanna backed away, joining Nicoletti who had been alerted by B’Elanna’s exclamation.

“How is she?” B’Elanna asked.

“She’s barely breathing,” the Doctor said. “There are some contusions – bruises - on the right side of her face, which may have occurred when she hit the deck. No other signs of external injury.”

“Could she have had a seizure?” Nicoletti asked.

“It’s not in her medical profile,” the Doctor said with a frown. “Other than a small subdermal hematoma, there is no evidence of bleeding inside the skull. Based on the appearance of the bruises, this must have occurred at least two hours ago, possibly three.” He pulled out a hypospray and pressed it against the base Holland’s neck. “This should take care of the hematoma; she’ll regain consciousness soon.” Seconds went by with no apparent change in Holland’s condition, and his frown deepened.

“This must have occurred around the time she was coming off duty,” B’Elanna noted. “Why is she still unconscious?”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor said. “Her brain waves are presenting in a very unusual pattern, similar to someone in a coma. I don’t understand what could have caused this to occur.” He shifted the focus of his mediwand downward. “There’s no internal bleeding. No sign of trauma to her cardiovascular system or lower abdomen. There _is_ some damage to the anterior cruciate ligament in both knees, which may have occurred when she fell.”

“Or been the cause of her fall,” Ayala said as he joined them. There was no visible blood or signs of combat. B’Elanna stared at the chief of security for a moment, wondering what he was doing there, and then realized he was responding to her call of a crewman down. 

“You think she tripped over something?” Nicoletti asked.

Ayala surveyed the scene, his gaze sweeping every meter of the area. “Or someone could have cut her legs out from under her.” He turned to the Doctor. “Are there any defensive wounds, Doctor?” 

“Do you think she was attacked?” B’Elanna asked, unable to keep the shock out of her voice. The revelation a member of her crew could have been attacked and badly injured was nothing less than alarming. It seemed impossible that something like this could happen on _Voyager_. “By whom?”

The Doctor lifted Holland’s left arm, which was closest to him. “You are correct, Mr. Ayala. There are abrasions on her knuckles, and I’m detecting traces of organic matter under her fingernails.”

“Can you find out who it was?” Ayala asked grimly.

“Running a DNA scan now,” the Doctor said. He looked up, his surprise evident. “The residue appears to be Vulcanoid.”

“Are you saying a Vulcan did this to her?” Nicoletti asked incredulously.

“I said _Vulcanoid_,” The Doctor said, stressing the word. “But not pure Vulcan. There’s an inconsistency of a few thousand nucleotides, which is reminiscent of--”

B’Elanna didn’t pay attention to the rest of his sentence, having already drawn her own conclusions. “Ayala,” she said and cocked her head toward the main Engineering bay. “Come with me.” Together, they started walking toward the warp core, where Ensigns Jor and Bristow were monitoring the matter-anti-matter matrix. Lieutenants Sterman and T’Lara were working at nearby stations. B’Elanna nodded slightly in their direction, and said, her voice barely audible, “Take point.”

After serving together at close quarters in the Maquis, and then on _Voyager_, B’Elanna knew Ayala would be attuned to what she was about to do. As she’d anticipated, Ayala unobtrusively moved forward.

“Lieutenant T’Lara,” B’Elanna said crisply. “I need to speak to you. Would you please accompany me to my office?”

T’Lara looked up. “May I inquire as to the nature of the conversation, Lieutenant Torres? I am presently in the middle of a crucial task. Can this wait until after my shift is over?”

“No, I need to speak with you _now_,” B’Elanna said, emphasizing the final word. “Sterman, take over for T’Lara.”

A fleeting expression of disapproval – or was it anger – passed over the Vulcan’s face. B’Elanna recalled other times T’Lara had displayed flashes of emotion, which had seemed so at odds from what she was used to seeing from Vorik or Tuvok. B’Elanna held her breath, wondering what T’Lara would do. But the Vulcan entered one last command on the console, and then stepped away.

_Good. Now come just a little closer._

“If you wish to know the status of the ancillary--” T’Lara stopped short at the sight of Ayala, and her eyes narrowed. Suddenly, she turned and shoved an unsuspecting Sterman at the security chief, effectively blocking his way, and dashed in the opposite direction, toward the main engineering exit.

Cursing, B’Elanna broke into a run. Ayala, only momentarily delayed, was on her heels. The main doors opened, and T’Lara sprinted into the corridor, but before she could round the corner, Ayala raised his phaser and fired. T’Lara crumpled to the floor.

Breathing heavily, B’Elanna at first did not notice the Doctor had come up to her side. He ran a quick scan on the stunned woman. “That can’t be right.” He repeated his scan more slowly, and then looked up in astonishment. “Lieutenant T’Lara is a Romulan.”

***

“Security to Captain Janeway.”

Not taking her eyes off the main viewscreen as they approached the Loralian system, Janeway closed the contact on the side of her command chair. “Go ahead, Mr. Ayala.”

“We’ve apprehended a Romulan spy on board.”

“What?” Janeway half-rose from her seat in surprise. At her side, Tuvok similarly stiffened. “Who?” 

“Lieutenant T’Lara.”

“She is one of the new crewmembers we took on at Deep Space Nine, assigned to engineering,” Tuvok said immediately.

“Well, she was apparently snooping around in an ‘off-limits’ section, when she was interrupted by Lieutenant Holland.” Ayala filled in the rest of the details rapidly. 

Janeway’s mouth tightened. “Throw her in the brig. We’ll deal with her later.” 

“She’s already there.” 

“What’s the status of our injured crewmember?”

“Lieutenant Holland regained consciousness in Sickbay and was able to recount what happened. The Doctor expects her to make a full recovery.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Janeway immediately cut the contact. “Bridge to Engineering.”

“Torres here.”

“B’Elanna, I just spoke to Lieutenant Ayala. Have you checked the status of the quantum drive?” She didn’t add the obvious, that any damage to the drive would effectively strand them in the Gamma Quadrant. 

“That was the first thing we checked, Captain,” B’Elanna said. “It’s OK. Whatever T’Lara was after, she didn’t compromise the drive.”

Janeway briefly considered asking about the cloaking device, but as it was clearly still working, she dismissed that from her mind. “Keep me informed if you discover anything. Janeway out.”

Fifteen minutes later, _Voyager_ approached the moon where the ketracel white facility was located. From the briefings, Janeway knew the facility was composed of a group of interconnected buildings, with most of the construction underground. 

Ever since he’d entered the bridge earlier, Janeway had been very aware of Jondi’s continued presence, and now she stiffened when he moved closer until he was standing directly beside her. 

“I have every intention of carrying out the mission,” she said to him in a low voice, “so you can stand down.” 

Jondi smiled. “I never had any doubts, Captain. But I meant it when I said I’m here to help you in any way I can.” 

Janeway welcomed the distraction of Ayala returning to the bridge at that moment. His stand-in at the Tactical station, Grigg, a Neriad, moved aside. 

Janeway stood. “Scan for weapons.”

“I’m detecting the presence of two batteries of automatic surface-to-space missiles,” Ayala reported a moment later, “but they shouldn’t present us with any difficulty.”

“No defensive fleet?” Janeway questioned. 

“The only ships in orbit appear to be regular supply transports,” said Harry Kim at Ops. “They are unarmed.”

“We’re in the heart of Dominion territory,” Hareven noted, “so it would make sense they wouldn’t waste resources by stationing any Jem’Hadar fighters here.” 

“We should not make such assumptions, even if the facility appears to be only lightly defended,” Tuvok cautioned. “We should be prepared for any contingencies.” He too had risen from his seat, and he exchanged a look with Ayala as he spoke.

“Tuvok, you’re still thinking like a tactical officer,” Tom Paris said with a smile.

Ignoring the helmsman’s last comment, Janeway said, “Identify and lock on to the target.”

Jondi moved to stand between Ops and Tactical and watched as the order was carried out. “Target identified,” Kim said. 

“Janeway to Engineering. Disengage the cloak.” The captain took a step forward, her hands on her hips. “Fire phasers.”

“Aye, Captain,” Ayala responded.

“Status,” Janeway said crisply.

“The main building complex on the surface is completely destroyed,” Kim reported. “The underground sections sustained only 50 percent damage.”

Ayala reacted to an alert on his console. “Incoming missiles. Shields holding.”

“I want a spread of quantum torpedoes, pattern alpha-omega,” Janeway said, as she seated herself once more. “Let’s finish off the structure and take out their surface defenses at the same time.”

“Firing torpedoes.”

“Confirmed. Target is completely destroyed,” Kim said a moment later.

“Well done,” Janeway said. “Helm, lay in a course for the Korellian sys--” She broke off at the sight of a squadron of Jem’Hadar ships, which appeared seemingly from nowhere. 

“Damn it! Where the hell did those come from?” Paris said and brought the ship about without waiting for Janeway’s order.

“Their trajectory indicates they were above the polar region of the planet, where the electromagnetic bands hid them from our view,” Kim said.

Janeway stabbed at the comm. “Engineering, engage the cloak! We’ve got company.”

“Unable to comply,” Torres reported a moment later.

“What do you mean?” Janeway said. “Is there a problem with the cloak?”

“The phasing integrity is only at 50 percent, Captain. We’re trying, but we can’t get it any higher.” 

“Do what you can,” Janeway said sharply. “Helm, evasive maneuvers. We’ve got to shake off our pursuers.” 

Paris’s fingers flew over the navigational controls. “Understood.”

“I wonder if this was what the Romulan spy was after,” Janeway muttered to Tuvok. “She might have sabotaged the cloak in some way that allowed it to continue functioning until it was disengaged but left us unable to bring it back online. Do you think she was in league with the Dominion?”

“It is highly probable,” Tuovk said. “But we have no way of knowing for sure, let alone on whose behalf she acted. Nor would it help us at this moment if we did.”

Janeway heartily agreed - not while the Dominion fighters were still bearing down on them. She gave the order, and _Voyager_ retreated.


	17. Chapter 17

After landing the _Darwin_ beyond the security perimeter, Tighe and the strike team managed to hike the 1.2-kilometer distance separating them from the breeding complex and get inside without being detected. The laser security sweeps were evaded with ease. Tighe didn’t breathe a sigh of relief, though he was glad they’d gotten past the first stage successfully.

“Time to split up,” he said. “Nemov and Roark, take the labs on level 3, east side of the complex. Phelps and I will set the charges to bring down the maturation pod storage bays on level 2.”

Nemov consulted his hand-held device. “The main power coupling station is 200 meters ahead, a fairly straight path on this level. Shouldn’t we go for that instead? We could destroy both areas without having to penetrate much further into the complex.”

Tighe shook his head. “According to our intel, the corridors leading from here to the main power coupling are heavily guarded.” 

“Right,” said Roark with a grimace. “So it’s back to our original plan of climbing through the ventilation ducts to reach our targets.”

Phelps distributed the charges. “Make sure you apply them exactly as we discussed. Setting off the cascade reaction will make our task easier.”

Tighe nodded. “Go.”

As the tallest of their group, Tighe reached up and easily accessed the metal grate at the top of the wall, in line with the seam of the ceiling. One by one, the team swung themselves up and into the duct. Once they were all inside, Tighe secured the opening and watched as Nemov and Roark headed east. He and Phelps headed in the opposite direction. The ducts were low and narrow, clearly not meant to be occupied by someone the size of a typical Jem’Hadar soldier – or Tighe himself. He barely had space to squeeze his body through the shaft, and the cramped confines set off a faint echo of his old claustrophobia. _This is why I gave up field work_, he thought. Fortunately, he was able to tamp down his feelings of unease and crawl rapidly after Phelps. 

After forty minutes, they reached the junction for the pod storage bay. Tighe ran a quick scan. 

“Is the coast clear?” Phelps asked hopefully.

“I’m reading three life signs in the distance,” Tighe said. “Two Jem’Hadar, one Vorta.”

“You’d think security would be automated,” Phelps said, a touch of annoyance in his voice. 

“The Dominion wouldn’t leave their perimeter without guards. Technology isn’t failsafe, you know,” Tighe said. He peeked through the grating. “The guards are going off to another chamber; probably doing their rounds. Now would be a good time to plant our charges.”

“What about the Vorta?” 

“Leave him to me,” Tighe said confidently as he swung through the opening.

***

“Nemov to Tighe.”

Tighe looked up from where he was attaching the last of the incendiary charges to the central life support unit. “Go ahead. What’s your status?”

“There’s another layer of force fields protecting the labs where the source genetic material is stored.” 

At Tighe’s unspoken question, Phelps immediately said, “They don't have enough firepower to bring it down.”

“Then we’ll have to do it manually by setting the main power coupling system to overload,” Tighe said. “That will cause the whole complex to blow.”

“Is it worth it? Maybe we should just cut our losses,” said Roark. “You’ve got the maturation pods, right?”

“Just destroying the pods is not enough,” Tighe said tightly. “That will only set the breeding program back by a few weeks. If we don't destroy the genetic material, the whole mission will be for naught.” 

“I’ll do it,” Phelps said, preparing to go.

“No,” Tighe said, overruling him. “I’ll take care of it. The rest of you should get out and get back to the shuttle and rendezvous with _Voyager_ as planned.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Phelps said. “I’m the munitions expert.”

“And I’m the guy with the eidetic memory who knows exactly where to go, and what to do,” Tighe countered. He raised his voice a bit. “Get moving.”

They protested some more, but they were his men, Section 31 veterans, and knew the value of following orders. Tighe watched Phelps leave to join the others. He checked the timers on the incendiary devices one last time, then hoisted himself back into the ventilation duct. He retraced his path back to the main junction where they’d first entered the ducts, then set off down the corridor to the main power coupling station. 

***

Phelps met up with Nemov and Roark without too much difficulty. Without speaking, they made their way to the tunnel entrance. 

“Careful now,” Nemov said. “The laser sweeps are randomized on this side. The slightest misstep and--” 

The rest of his words were drowned out by the blaring of an alarm klaxon.

Roark spun around. “Did we trip something? Or do you think Tighe was discovered?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nemov said. “We’ve got to get out of here!” 

A second alarm sounded. “Move it, people!” Nemov hit the deck, shoulder-first, and rolled clear as one of the automated lasers fired. Shouts echoed in the distance.

Roark clutched his leg, blood clearly seeping through his fingers from where he’d been hit. Phelps grabbed him and pulled him along. Soon, they emerged outside in the fading darkness and hurried along to where they had left the shuttle.

“Shit!” Phelps swore when they came within visual range, and Nemov quickly saw why. The shuttle had been discovered and was surrounded by a squad of Jem’Hadar soldiers.

“Options?” Phelps asked.

Nemov thought quickly. “Detonate the shuttle remotely,” he ordered.

“Are you crazy?” Phelps demanded. “We’ll be stranded here, with no way off the planet.”

“Do it,” Nemov said. “Or would you rather be captured?”

Phelps fumbled at his belt and then pressed a button. The shock wave generated by the explosion threw them to the ground.

Nemov made his way painfully to his feet. He’d landed on the same shoulder as before, and could tell he’d done some serious damage, possibly separated it. He took stock of the other team members. Roark’s leg was still bleeding freely, and Phelps was rubbing his head gingerly where a large bruise was already forming. 

“Head for the foothills,” he said. “We need to take cover. This place will soon be swarming with additional soldiers.” He swayed suddenly and his stomach lurched; he was starting to feel the effects of the radioactive tracer in his blood. He suspected the others were as well. Phelps’s hands trembled as he finished tying a tourniquet on Roark’s wounded leg. 

Slowly, painfully, they started moving in the direction of safety.

***

_Voyager_ came into range of the Korellian system, having managed to shake off their Dominion pursuers.

“Any sign of the _Darwin_?” Janeway asked, not for the first time.

Once again, Kim replied in the negative. “I’m not picking up any signs of the shuttle’s warp signature.”

Janeway’s eyes met Tuvok’s. “Bring us into orbit above the third planet,” she ordered. “Scan the surface for the shuttle, specifically for the duranium alloy of the hull.” 

“It’s possible the shuttle was damaged or destroyed,” Jondi said quietly. “We may not be able to locate it.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Janeway said.

“Each member of the team is equipped with subdermal transponders, for tracking purposes,” Jondi said. He stepped up next to Kim. “These are the frequencies.”

Janeway nodded. “Scan for those signals.”

Within minutes, Kim reported, “I’ve located the signals, but there are only three of them.”

Jondi said immediately, “There should be four. Nemov, Roark, Phelps, and of course, Commander Tighe.”

“Hail them,” Janeway said. “I want to confirm it’s our people and not just do a blind beam out.” She didn’t voice the very real possibility that the strike team had been captured and the transponders removed from their bodies.

“There’s too much interference,” Kim said, his fingers flying rapidly over his console interface. “Attempting to cut through.” After a few moments, he reported, “Comm link established.”

“_Voyager_ to away team,” Janeway said sharply. “What is your status?”

“Nemov here, _Voyager_.” He quickly explained the situation, finishing with, “We escaped from the facility on foot, but the _Darwin_ was destroyed. We’ve sustained injuries and request immediate beam out.”

Janeway felt the blood drain from her face at hearing the unfamiliar voice instead of Justin’s. “Where is Commander Tighe?” Janeway demanded.

“He’s still inside the facility, trying to cross-wire the controls to destroy the power coupling station and bring down the additional force field surrounding the genetics lab.” 

Janeway exhaled forcefully. “Mr. Ayala, lower the shields long enough to beam the three men directly to Sickbay.” Without missing a beat, she said, “Mr. Kim, hail Commander Tighe.”

“Sickbay reports they’ve got Nemov, Roark and Phelps,” Kim replied. “There’s no response from Commander Tighe.” 

“The force field surrounding the facility may be preventing the signal from getting through,” Tuvok noted.

Jondi leaned over the Ops station. “Scan the background radiation for traces of rochelium-540.” 

“What? Why?” Kim said in surprise.

“The away team all received a dose of the isotope as an additional tracking method,” Jondi said briefly.

“I’m on it,” Kim said at once. There was another delay before he said, “Found him. Captain, I managed to establish a comm link but because of the facility’s force field, I can’t get a lock on him.” 

“Janeway to Tighe,” she said. “Commander, you’ve got to get out of there. We can’t beam you out as long as you’re inside.”

“I can’t leave,” Tighe said. “I’m not done yet.” He paused, and they could hear phaser fire in the background. “Did you rendezvous with the _Darwin_?”

“We’ve got your people,” Janeway replied. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Negative. I need just a little more time to finish.”

“Captain, I’m picking up another wave of Dominion fighters,” Ayala said suddenly. “They’ll be within firing range in less than 5 minutes.”

“If we are going to beam up Commander Tighe, we must do it now,” Tuvok said. “If we delay any longer, we may be in the midst of battle and unable to lower the shields to allow the transport.”

“Damn it, Justin, I'm not going to just leave you there!” Janeway said urgently.

“I’m almost done,” Tighe insisted. “When it blows, the protective shield over the facility will go down as well and you’ll be able to beam me up.”

“Lock on to Tighe’s subdermal transponder and prepare to transport,” Janeway said, trying to keep her voice calm even as she felt her inner tension ratchet up higher.

“I’m trying to get a lock, but there’s too much interference,” Kim said in frustration. 

“Try locking on the source of the radiation reading,” Jondi said tersely.

“Acknowledged--”

The explosion occurred right then and was large enough to be clearly visible from orbit. Janeway stared at the viewscreen in shock and disbelief.

“Mr. Kim, what is the status of the transport?” Tuvok asked quietly.

Intent upon his controls, Kim didn’t answer. After a long, heart-stopping moment, he said, “I’ve got him!” 

Janeway stood frozen in place for a second while her mind tried to interpret what she’d just heard. “Bridge to Sickbay,” Tuvok said. 

“Sickbay, Nurse Houlihan here. Confirmed successful transport of Commander Tighe.”

Tuvok glanced at Janeway, but she did not speak. “What is the Commander’s status?”

“He's alive but sustained severe damage and may not make it. They’re taking him into emergency surgery now.”

Janeway closed her eyes for a split second. Just then, _Voyager_ was jolted by weapons fire.

“Incoming!” Ayala yelled from Tactical. “We’ve got multiple Dominion ships bearing down on us!” 

Janeway’s head came up sharply. “Ayala, return fire. Paris, get us the hell out of here.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Direct hit on the port shield,” Ayala reported. “Shields down to 89 percent.”

“Target the lead ship,” Janeway ordered. She counted silently to herself, but the ships’ constant motion, as well as the unfamiliar attack formations, made it hard to determine their exact number. “How many enemy vessels are out there?”

“I’m reading five, no, six Dominion ships,” Harry Kim said, his voice raised in concern. “Two are medium sized cruisers, the rest smaller fighters like we saw earlier.” 

The ship rocked again. “Shields down to 75 percent,” Ayala said. “The fighters have surrounded us and they’re continuing to take shots at us. For all their small size, they certainly pack a punch! They’re also maintaining position between us and the cruisers, making it hard to target them effectively.”

“Attack pattern rho-beta,” Janeway said tersely, adrenaline pulsing through her body as she absorbed the information Ayala gave her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tom Paris said. Immediately, _Voyager_ banked hard to port and then shifted to starboard in a graceful swerve, putting them in position to go on the offensive.

“Target their engines,” Janeway ordered. “Let’s clear out the smaller craft.” Twin phaser beams lanced out from _Voyager_ as soon as she finished speaking.

“We destroyed two of the fighters,” Ayala said a moment later. “The others sustained damage and have retreated for now.” The ship continued to shudder under the assault. “We’re still taking heavy fire from the two cruisers.” He looked up from his console. “Our shields are draining rapidly and at this rate will be down completely with another few hits.”

“Fire a spread of photon torpedoes, pattern Janeway-sigma-four. Helm, lay in a course for 477 mark 81. Let’s see if we can discourage them from following.” Despite the dire situation they found themselves in, Janeway almost welcomed the battle, as it forced her to concentrate on something other than the mental image of Tighe fighting for his life in Sickbay in the aftermath of the explosion.

“No effect,” Kim reported a moment later. “The cruisers’ shields are holding, and they’re still on our tail.”

Janeway slammed the comm unit on the arm of her command chair. “Damn it, B’Elanna, we need that cloak!” 

“It’s still down,” Torres said over the comm, “and frankly, I have higher priorities right now. I’ve got my hands full just trying to keep the shields up and the phaser banks powered.”

Janeway realized B’Elanna was right. The cloak was best used to avoid enemy detection. Once discovered, the advantage was lost. More to the point, _Voyager_ couldn’t return fire while cloaked. Still, irrationally, she wished they could engage the cloak now. In her mind’s eye, she saw Tighe bent over the console, showing them how to work the advanced technology to its full advantage. She wished she hadn’t been so disdainful at the time.

“Captain, request permission to go down to Engineering,” Hareven said, breaking into her thoughts. He got up from the science station. “I spent a lot of time reviewing the cloaking device specs with Commander Tighe and I have some ideas to get it up and running.” 

“Do it,” Janeway said, her eyes once more on the main viewscreen. She didn’t need the readout on her console to tell her the Dominion cruisers were gaining on them. 

“The cloak would not do us any good now, as the Dominion is aware of our position,” Tuvok said quietly. 

_I know that._ Janeway set her jaw stubbornly. Aloud, she said, “At this point, every little bit helps. Anything we can use to our advantage.”

“They’re firing again,” Kim announced. The ship rocked in confirmation.

“Shields are almost gone,” Ayala said.

“The first time we encounter the Jem'Hadar in battle, it had to be like this?” Paris muttered. “Doesn’t seem fair, somehow.”

“In the Delta Quadrant, first contact with other species usually meant we were on the receiving end of weapons fire,” Janeway retorted. “We always managed to survive then, and I see no reason to change that streak now.”

*** 

In Sickbay, another battle was being waged - to keep Tighe alive. 

“Five hundred cc’s tetrasulfacylene, followed by 30 cc’s megahydrize iosodiase,” the EMH said tersely. “Bashir, locate and clamp the bleeder in the upper thoracic cavity. Then do the same near the aortic branch.” Without missing a beat, he added, “Nurse Kelley, continue monitoring the intracranial pressure and let me know immediately if it approaches critical levels. Nurse Houlihan, hand me the laser scalpel and hold the retractors at a 45-degree angle.” 

As the Doctor continued rapidly barking out commands, the rest of the surgical team, Bashir included, was hard put to keep up with him. “What’s the arterial blood pressure, Bashir?”

Bashir lifted his head to see the monitor display. “Seventy over forty, diastolic.”

“If systolic pressure drops below fifty, administer 25 ccs trimiodine.”

A sudden spray of red appeared. “The patient is bleeding out,” cautioned Kelley. 

“Get another unit of blood, and keep it coming,” ordered Bashir as he continued to try and repair the extensive damage. As soon as he sutured one bleeder, another seemed to appear in its place. In the corner of his mind he couldn’t help but think, _this is one way of removing the radioactive isotope from the bloodstream._

As the desperate minutes went by, the Doctor and Bashir worked smoothly as a team, anticipating each other’s needs. Bashir almost began to hope that they would be successful in saving the patient’s life.

Suddenly, Tighe went into cardiac arrest. “Damn it! We’re losing him!” Bashir exclaimed.

“Not on my watch, we won’t,” said the Doctor grimly. 

***

“Mr. Kim, what is our position?” Janeway asked as _Voyager_ continued to take hits from the Dominion cruisers.

“We’re in sector 255, more than 15 light years from our entry coordinates,” Kim reported. 

Next to her, Tuvok quietly, said, “Captain, it is unlikely we will survive much longer.”

“I need options,” Janeway snapped.

“What if we use the quantum drive?” suggested Paris.

“No,” Tuvok said immediately. “That is too risky an option, as we are too vulnerable upon entry. And if the quantum wave collapses prematurely, we will all die.”

“But if we don’t escape, that may very well happen anyway,” Janeway said. As if to illustrate her words, a nearby console burst into flame.

“The aft shields are completely gone,” Ayala reported. “The fore and side shields are weakening, down to 35 and 10 percent, respectively.”

“Reports of damage and possible hull breeches on decks 4, 8 and 12,” Kim said.

“What about the entrance to the wormhole?” the Captain said. “How far away are we from those coordinates?” 

“The last we heard, the wormhole was sealed,” Tuvok cautioned. “Surely, you can’t be thinking of trying to enter--”

“_The last we heard_,” Janeway repeated, stressing the words. “And yes, that’s _exactly_ what I’m thinking of.”

***

Engineering was in a state of controlled chaos. B’Elanna rapidly called out orders. “Sterman, divert power to the phaser banks! Vorik, what is the status of the torpedoes?”

“Automatic launch sequence is down. Any attempts to fire torpedoes must be done manually,” Vorik replied.

B’Elanna distractedly ran her hand through her hair. “Hareven, any luck with the cloaking device?”

“Negative,” the science chief replied. “Power’s draining as fast as I can run it through the grid. There’s a damaged component which is preventing it from holding.”

“Then leave it and get to deck 4 and the torpedo launch bays – make sure they’re operational. Nicoletti, you need to recalibrate--” B’Elanna broke off at the sight of Alice Holland entering the engineering bay. “Holland, what the hell are you doing here?”

Pale and shaky, Holland nonetheless held herself as erect as possible, as she said, “Reporting for duty, Lieutenant Torres. I thought you could use some help.”

B’Elanna bit back the retort that they had been managing just fine without her, realizing the effort this must be costing Holland. She’d been injured after all and must have just come straight from Sickbay. “Well, if you’re here, you may as well make yourself useful,” she said gruffly. “Assist Nicoletti with the plasma relays. They’re blowing almost as fast as we can replace them.”

“Aye, aye, Lieutenant,” Holland said as she made her way to her station.

B’Elanna turned back to her task with the main shielding controls, rapidly entering commands to mitigate some of the heavy fire they were taking from the enemy. She accessed the raw data of the Dominion attack patterns, plugged them into the algorithm parameters, making small adjustments as necessary. She sent up a silent prayer and then deployed the defensive system.

It was working.

As each salvo hit _Voyager_, the shields bunched together at the point of impact and deflected most of the blow.

“How are you doing that?” Holland exclaimed, clearly observing her closely. “How do you know where the next hit will be?”

“Simple algorithm to predict the next hit, based on previous attack patterns,” B’Elanna said shortly, though inwardly, she was gratified to see Holland’s amazed – and impressed – expression. 

***

“Set a course for the wormhole,” Janeway ordered. “Maximum warp.” She turned toward her first officer. “Maybe it’s still open on this side, and once inside we’ll be able to transit successfully. For all we know, Starfleet was able to reopen it on the AQ side.” She firmly squashed down the thought that if it _wasn’t_ open, this was a suicide mission. But there was no other choice – either they were going to die here in the Gamma Quadrant, or they could make one last run for it and hope for the best. She tapped her comm console. “Engineering, prepare to engage the quantum drive – we need to get a burst of speed to distance ourselves from those Dominion cruisers!”

If Torres was shocked at the audacity of this suggestion, she kept her feelings to herself. “Understood, Captain. Engaging the deflector now – it’ll take a few moments until the power buildup reaches optimal levels.”

“No need for that,” Janeway noted wryly. “We won’t be setting any relays for future hops.”

“Captain, we do not know the consequences of using the drive inside the wormhole,” Tuvok objected.

“We don’t exactly have a lot of choices right now,” Janeway countered. She studied the readouts. “Mr. Ayala, fire a spread of torpedoes directly in the path of those cruisers. I don’t want any unexpected company when we enter the wormhole.”

Ayala complied. “Firing torpedoes now.” He looked up. “One cruiser is disabled and has dropped out of warp. The other is still on our tail.”

_Voyager_ jolted. “The deflector is building up the energy reserves,” Torres reported from Engineering. “You’ll be able to engage the drive in another 12 seconds.”

“Approaching the wormhole coordinates,” Kim said suddenly. Janeway stared intently at the viewscreen, willing the opening to appear. Just then, Kim declared, “It’s opening!” 

“Paris, take us in!” Janeway ordered. “Ayala, what’s happening with that Dominion cruiser?”

Another tense moment or two went by before Ayala said, “They’re not following us in, Captain.”

_Voyager_ shuddered as the ship entered the wormhole, and the bridge crew were thrown around like dice in a cup. “Helm, report!” Janeway called.

“We’re going in too quickly!” Paris said, wrestling with his controls. “Encountering large pockets of turbulence. I’m trying to hold our course, but it may not be possible!”

“Hold steady--” 

“Captain, I’m picking up some anomalous readings,” Kim said. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before!”

“Onscreen,” Janeway ordered, while clinging to her command seat.

“There are unusual kinetic energy discharges throughout the entire length of the wormhole, almost like something you’d see in a battle. But I don’t understand where they’re coming from,” Harry said, his eyes on his console. Suddenly, he looked up in surprise.

Janeway followed his gaze to the main viewscreen.

A hush fell over the bridge as they watched one blue-white energy form, shaped vaguely like a comet, rush forward and engage a similar form, this one red-hued. Waves and ripples of energy sloughed off each as they alternately brightened and dimmed, almost as if engaged in mortal combat with each other. For a timeless moment, they clung together, and then with a blinding burst of light, almost too bright to bear, the red form broke apart and shattered. The blue form grew even brighter in intensity, until they were forced to look away.

“The energy readings are off the scale!” Kim exclaimed.

“Shield status,” Janeway demanded.

“They’re holding, Captain,” Ayala said, clearly striving to hold his voice steady.

Just then, _Voyager_ burst through the newly opened wormhole onto the AQ side.

Janeway exhaled raggedly as she took in the familiar sight of stars once more, signifying their entry into normal space. In the distance, she could just make out the sight of the Cardassian-built station. “Engineering, disengage the quantum drive,” she ordered.

“It’s already offline,” Torres reported. “Whatever that was we encountered in there, it couldn’t hold up to the strain.”

“Captain, we’re being hailed by Deep Space Nine,” Kim said. “They want to know what our status is.”

Janeway slowly stood and straightened her uniform. “Tell them we request permission to dock at the station,” she said. “Our mission is completed.”


	19. Chapter 19

In the hours immediately following their dramatic return from the Gamma Quadrant, Janeway was fully occupied dealing with ship’s business. She held conversations with Admiral Ross and other Starfleet brass, ordered repairs to be set in motion, and oversaw countless other important tasks. Finally, when there was nothing more to be done, Janeway rose to her feet. “Commander Tuvok, you have the con.” She paused. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be in Sickbay.” 

The Vulcan first officer nodded, though by rights he should have gone off duty four hours earlier, just as she should have. His face was as expressionless as ever, yet Janeway could discern a hint of sympathy in his eyes. She turned away hastily, unwilling to let him see the tumult of her emotions.

Dr. Bashir greeted Janeway immediately as she entered Sickbay. “Captain Janeway. I presume you are here for the injury report.” 

Janeway nodded, feeling her stomach clench in anticipation.

“Three crew members, Ensigns Volk, Tristan, and Lloyd, suffered mild burns due to the hull breach on deck 8. Counselor Tigan treated two others, Ensigns Dresden and Yudaski, for shock,” Bashir said, adding, “It was their first combat experience.”

Janeway glanced around Sickbay, noting there were currently no patients in sight. “What about the members of the away team?”

“Specialist Nemov had a separated shoulder, Roark a broken leg, and Phelps a concussion,” Bashir said, consulting a second PADD. “In addition, all three were in the early to middle stages of radiation poisoning, due to the radioactive tracer in their blood. They were all treated and released, with the last one, Phelps, being discharged a little over an hour ago.”

Janeway’s mouth was suddenly dry. “What about Commander Tighe?”

“Commander Tighe came through surgery successfully and is expected to make a full recovery, thanks to the skills of the Doctor,” Bashir said with a nod toward _Voyager_’s Doctor who had just entered the room.

“You weren’t too shabby yourself,” the Doctor said, obviously pleased at Bashir’s words. “To give credit where credit is due, I must say I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Thank you,” Bashir said, “though I will point out your technique of--”

Nurse Houlihan, who had entered with the Doctor, interrupted the mutual admiration society between the two physicians before it could progress any further. “Come right this way, Captain,” she said, leading Janeway to a more private area, away from the main bay. The room they entered held a single biobed, whose therapeutic shell arced over the top, concealing the occupant. Houlihan pressed a control at the side, and the shell split into its component halves which were then rapidly drawn back into their recesses to reveal the patient within. 

It was Justin. 

Houlihan adjusted a monitor on Tighe’s forehead. “He should be regaining consciousness soon,” she said, and quietly left the room.

Janeway moved closer to the bed, drawn to that still form. Tighe’s eyes were closed, his face and shoulders visible above the thermo-blanket. Thanks to the dermal and osteo-regenerators, there were no visible injuries, but he was deathly pale. He looked oddly vulnerable, a word she would never have associated with him.

For a few moments, Janeway stood next to his biobed, watching his chest rise and fall, reassuring herself that he was still alive. Aloud, she said, “I don’t know whether I want to kiss you or kill you for the stunt you just pulled.”

At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes and said, weakly, “I’ve had enough of people trying to kill me for a while, so if you don’t mind, I’d prefer the first option.”

A complex wave of emotion swept over her at seeing him awake. Her welcoming smile quickly turned into a frown. “Justin, why did you risk your life like that?” Her voice rose sharply as she felt again the panic and helpless fury she’d experienced when he had refused to leave the Dominion facility so they could beam him to safety.

“I had a mission to carry out,” he said simply.

“But the way you did it – once you were back on board, _Voyager_ could have destroyed the facility from orbit, like we did the ketracel white complex,” Janeway pointed out. “Instead, you put your life on the line by insisting on setting it to explode yourself.”

“That way posed the least risk to the ship.” He attempted a smile that quickly turned to a grimace of pain. “My mission, but _your_ ship, remember?” 

She looked at him incredulously. “I’m grateful you didn’t want to endanger the ship, but did you really think I’d want you to sacrifice your life in exchange?” 

“To save the Federation?” His expression left no doubt that he had been prepared to lay down his life to do just that. “As for _Voyager_, I know how much this ship means to you; you probably care more about it than you do any person,” he insisted, struggling to sit up. “Definitely more than me – this wouldn’t be the first time you chose a ship over me.” 

She immediately caught his allusion to the _Al-Batani_ and her insistence on joining the Arias expedition despite his objections, all those years ago. She bristled. “That’s hardly fair--”

“I’m not saying this to pick a fight, I’m just stating facts.” 

“Justin--”

He raised his voice to talk over her. “Let’s be honest, Kathryn. Practically the first thing you said to me after you accepted this mission was not to put your ship in any danger.”

_While the fate of the Federation hung in the balance, but I was too short-sighted to see it._ She flushed, remembering her words. “Still, after everything we’ve been through, you think I would risk what we have, that I would risk _you_?”

“‘What we have’?” he questioned.

“Our relationship,” she answered. “Our second chance at trying to make things right between us.” She tensed when he didn’t visibly react to her statement. “Or what would you call what we’ve been doing over the past few weeks?”

“We were just kidding ourselves, thinking we could make it work if we just gave it another shot,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing has changed, not really. I see that now. I was crazy to think otherwise. All the years I’ve known you, you never understood why I did what I did, what I really wanted. But it was my involvement in Section 31 that broke us apart. You never could forgive me for that.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he wasn’t finished yet.

“You thought – you _still_ think that anything touched by Section 31 is irrevocably tainted. Including me.” He took a ragged breath. “It didn’t help that I _did_ betray you in the conventional way as well, after you left on the Aries expedition.” He paused. “Or did you consider the Section the greater betrayal?”

“I won’t deny that learning about your affairs devastated me,” she said, “but you’re right about how I feel about Section 31.” Haltingly, she brought up her doubts once more. “I’ve been trying to keep an open mind, God knows I have, particularly since the start of this mission, but I keep coming back to the same thing. I don’t like how the Section operates, or how quick they are to sacrifice lives to achieve their often less-than honorable goals. I can’t agree that the ends always justify the means.” 

“You can still say that after your experiences in the Delta Quadrant?” he challenged. “You never had to compromise your principles there in the name of survival?” 

Janeway hesitated. “I admit I did do some things I wasn’t proud of.” 

His eyes never left her face. “Sometimes it’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing,” he said. “But here’s something I’ve learned over the years. You can second guess yourself all you like, but if you think about it objectively, you realize if you had to do it all over again you wouldn’t change anything. Eventually, you come to terms with what you did – you did the best you could under the circumstances, and you learn to take your victories where you can.” 

“I accepted that there were extenuating circumstances in the Delta Quadrant,” she acknowledged. “Determining the correct course of action was – things were often questionable and murky.” She took a deep breath. “To be honest, I wonder what would have happened to us – my ship, my crew and I - not just physically, if it had taken us longer to get home.”

“But it didn’t, thanks to Section 31,” he interjected.

“Thanks to _you_, working under their auspices,” she said tersely. “But the years we _did_ spend in the Delta Quadrant exacted a heavy toll, and I know I wasn’t the same person – or captain - as I’d been at the beginning of our journey.” She was silent for a moment. “But I thought things would be different in the Alpha Quadrant.” 

“Here, too, there are extenuating circumstances,” he said quietly. "Because of the war."

“I know that,” she snapped. “All right, maybe I was holding on to an idealized vision.” She hesitated, then forced herself to continue. “And maybe I _do_ need to change my perspective at least a little bit or at least adjust it enough to take that into account.” She swallowed. “But it’s hard. Sometimes it feels like I’m almost there…and at others it seems like I’m turning my back on everything I was brought up to believe.” 

His eyes met hers, and she could see the exhaustion and pain in their depths. “Kathryn, what you said earlier about a second chance…did you mean that? Or is it too late for us?” 

“I can’t--” she said and then broke off, unsure of what she wanted to say. She leaned over and kissed him softly, and then backed away. “I’ll leave you to get some rest.” 

***

Bashir watched the captain leave the room with Nurse Houlihan, and briefly wondered if he’d missed something. He shrugged and continued preparing for his departure; now that the mission was concluded, he was due to take up his regular posting on Deep Space Nine once again. 

He became aware he wasn’t alone and looked up to see the EMH watching him. “Yes, Doctor? Was there something else you wanted?”

“I just wanted to say you’re a fine physician,” the EMH said, his sincerity apparent. He added, somewhat hesitantly, “I’ll miss having you around, that is, it was good to be part of a team and to associate with someone who shares my interest and skill in medicine.” 

Bashir smiled, though he couldn’t help thinking that doubtless the EMH would soon find himself paired with yet another flesh and blood physician. “I’ll miss you as well,” he said, and to his surprise found it was true. “I admit I underestimated you at first, because you’re a hologram.” He quickly added, “But now I know better. I’d definitely rank you among the top five current Federation physicians.”

“Only the top five?” the Doctor spluttered but then stopped, obviously thinking better of it. “Uh, thank you.”

Any reply Bashir might have had was forgotten as just then, Lieutenant Annika Hansen entered Sickbay.

The EMH cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad we got that cleared up. Seven, is there something I can do for you? Another issue with one of your implants?”

“Actually, I would like to speak with Dr. Bashir,” she said, darting quick glances in Bashir’s direction.

The EMH looked from one to the other, and a curious expression flitted across his face, followed by understanding. “In that case, I’ll give you some privacy,” the EMH said begrudgingly and stalked into his office. 

“Thank you,” Annika said to his retreating back. Turning to Bashir, she said, “I was surprised to hear that you are leaving _Voyager_.”

“It was only meant to be a temporary assignment for the duration of the mission,” he reminded her. “And now that’s over.” He waved his hand around Sickbay, indicating the diagnostic beds which were currently empty. “All the recent patients have been treated and released, or, as in Commander Tighe’s case, will soon be transferred to the infirmary on Deep Space Nine. I’ve completed my work here.”

Annika nodded, a bit uncertainly. “That is correct. You did inform me in the beginning that this was only temporary. But I thought perhaps you might reconsider…” Her eyes met his. “I am sorry to see you go.”

He smiled, pleased at her admission. “I’m glad I had the chance to get to know you, at least a little bit.” 

“I am as well,” she said, crossing and uncrossing her arms as if unsure where to place them. “But now I wonder…”

“Yes?”

“If perhaps I was too hasty in saying all I was interested in was friendship,” she said, biting her lip. “But then again, you’re leaving, so maybe it was for the best.” 

Bashir moved closer to her. “You know, Annika, goodbye is not permanent. And I’m not going too far, I’ll be right here at Deep Space Nine. Based on _Voyager_’s patrol assignment, we could very well still see quite a lot of each other at regular intervals.” 

She moved closer to him as well, until they were almost touching. “I would like that,” she said softly, the look in her blue eyes an invitation. 

He gently tilted her face up to his, and they shared a very sweet goodbye kiss. “Until next time, Annika,” he said as he released her.

“Until next time,” she repeated with a smile. “Julian.”

***

The next morning, Janeway and Tuvok were ensconced in the Ready Room, dealing with personnel issues. 

Tuvok said, “We need to fill the recent openings in Security, that is, replace Misters Nemov, Devers, Phelps and Roark.”

“Yes,” Janeway said without looking up from her console. “There are also a few holes to plug in Engineering, as ‘T’Lara’ has been taken into custody by station security. In addition, Lieutenant Renfrew has requested a transfer to Starfleet Command on Earth to be closer to his family.”

“We also need to consider a replacement for Dr. Bashir,” Tuvok said, making another notation on his PADD. “Though the Doctor proved he can manage Sickbay quite efficiently alone, there is definitely an advantage in having more than one physician on board.”

“I know we weren’t exactly operating under normal circumstances the last four years or so,” Janeway said, finally meeting his eyes, “but doesn’t this strike you as an unusually high turnover after just one mission?”

“Indeed. Though perhaps, in the heart of Federation space, the possibilities for reassignment are higher than they were in the Delta Quadrant.”

She weighed his words, trying to judge how much sarcasm they contained, when the door signal sounded. “Enter,” Janeway called. She straightened in surprise to see the new arrival. “Counselor Tigan, I thought our appointment was later today.” 

Tigan stood stiffly at attention. “I apologize for interrupting, Captain, Commander, but this can’t wait. I know we’re only supposed to be docked at the station for another few days until our repairs are complete, so I hope it’s not too late for me to put in a request to transfer off _Voyager_.” 

If Janeway had been surprised earlier, she was downright shocked now. “Why do you want to leave _Voyager_?” 

“Well, honestly, I don’t think I’m a very effectual counselor,” Tigan said, a bit ruefully. “You – and _Voyager_ \- deserve someone better. I don’t belong here.” 

“I disagree,” Janeway said immediately. “On what do you base your conclusion?” 

“Well, I know I kind of came on too strong at first and many of the crew seemed to be avoiding me, though that situation did improve after Commander Tuvok got involved,” Tigan said in a rush. “But now that I’ve actually been meeting with and counseling patients, I think I may be in over my head.” Her distress was evident as she said this last part.

Janeway leaned back in her chair and regarded the counselor in silence for a few moments. “So you’re saying this after a grand total of three weeks on board?” She shook her head. “Sorry, but the scientist in me says the sample is too small to yield meaningful data. I have heard no complaints or anything negative about you whatsoever. Perhaps,” she added gently, “your biggest critic is one you see when you look in the mirror, and you need to give yourself a chance to prove that you _do_ in fact belong here. Don’t be so quick to take yourself out of the running, Ensign.” 

“I agree with Captain Janeway,” Tuvok said. “Not only have I heard nothing negative, but on the contrary, I have heard some favorable things from some of the crew who have availed themselves of counseling sessions so far. Lieutenant Holland in particular spoke highly of you and will doubtless wish for your continued help in dealing with the aftermath of her attack in Engineering. There are others who need you as well.”

Tigan looked surprised but pleased.

“So you may as well not bother to submit it, because I refuse to accept your resignation,” Janeway said firmly.

“Well, if you feel _that_ strongly about it,” Tigan said, clearly wavering. 

Janeway leaned forward and grasped Tigan’s hand. “As you’ll learn, Ensign, I don’t let go of people of lightly.”


	20. Chapter 20

_Three months later_

On a god-forsaken moon in the Erdavian system, Jondi entered the nondescript pub and saw Tighe sitting at the bar; it was the first time their paths had crossed since _Voyager_’s mission to the Gamma Quadrant. It was a chance meeting, despite the odds against it. Neither man was in uniform. Tighe gave him a brusque nod but didn’t seem surprised to see him.

Jondi caught the barkeep’s eye as he slid onto the next stool. “I’ll have a Saurian brandy.” Jondi turned to Tighe. “You look good.”

Tighe didn’t look up from his own glass of bourbon. “The miracle of modern medicine.”

“You almost died,” Jondi pointed out. He lifted his glass and downed its contents rapidly, then motioned to the barkeep for another.

“Not like it was the first time,” said Tighe with a shrug.

“No, it wasn’t,” Jondi agreed. He thought back to the time Tighe was captured and held prisoner by the Cardassians after their mission on Yrdsk Prime went awry. Or the time they rescued Admiral Paris and then-Ensign Janeway on Urtea II. Other ‘incidents’ came to mind as well. “You came a lot closer to dying this time.”

Tighe didn’t reply.

Jondi casually held up his left wrist, displaying the metal bracelet he wore. Not purely ornamental, it concealed a micro-field disruptor which meant their conversation could not be overheard, let alone recorded. Tighe smiled tightly and held up his own wrist, showing the twin to Jondi’s bracelet. “What brings you here now?” Jondi asked curiously, thinking about his own current mission. “More field duty?”

Tighe shook his head. “Breen.”

Jondi nodded thoughtfully; it made perfect sense for Tighe to be involved in the effort to reverse engineer the Breen weapon that had recently been used with devastating effect on Earth and other Federation worlds. Aloud, he said, “Nemov said it was like old home week, having you back in the field again, leading the mission.” Jondi smiled wistfully. “I would’ve liked to have seen it. Instead, you told me to stay on the ship to keep an eye on things.” He took another sip of his drink. “You know,” he said, tucking the bracelet back under the cuff of his jacket sleeve, “you really had nothing to worry about; Janeway came through with her part of the mission.”

“She’s all about doing her duty,” Tighe said shortly, “as she sees it. And that was what gave me pause.” He set his own glass down carefully on the surface of the bar. “But yeah, she came through.”

It didn’t take a Betazoid to read Tighe’s mood. 

“Hey,” Jondi said. “She was motivated by a lot more than just duty. I was on the bridge; I saw her face when you were caught in the explosion. She was--”

“That didn’t mean anything,” Tighe interjected. “She doesn’t like to lose – anyone or anything.”

_Sounds like someone else I know_. “Justin,” Jondi said quietly. “I know the two of you had gotten close again, before the mission. And you looked pretty cozy after _Voyager_ left Deep Space Nine, at least until we got to the GQ. But I guess it didn’t work out.” 

“No, it didn’t,” Tighe said quietly.

Jondi paused, considering his next words very carefully. “You’ve been hung up over her for _years_, man. I’ve got to ask - is she worth it?”

Tighe looked at him in surprise. “Of course she is,” he said, as if stating the obvious. “She’s Kathryn fucking Janeway.”

***

“I’m sorry I missed you on your previous visit to Deep Space Nine,” said Captain Benjamin Sisko, leaning back in his office chair. “I appreciate your making this ‘courtesy call’, as it gives me the opportunity to belatedly welcome you back from the Delta Quadrant.” He indicated his own mug of raktajino. “Can I get you anything, Captain Janeway?” 

“Coffee would be fine, thanks,” Janeway answered. “And it’s Kathryn.”

He smiled as he handed her the mug. “Ben.” 

Janeway inhaled the aroma before taking a sip. “I’m also sorry I missed you, but understood the reasons for your absence,” she said. Sisko had officially been on leave, as cover for a covert mission related to his role as the Bajoran Emissary. She put the mug down on the desk, careful not to mar its smooth surface with any spills. “Your efforts were essential to the success of our mission to the Gamma Quadrant, not to mention the survival of my ship and crew. If it weren’t for your discovery of the Orb on Tyree, _Voyager_ wouldn’t have been able to use the wormhole to return.” At the guarded expression on Sisko’s face, Janeway tactfully changed the subject. “Dr. Bashir was a real asset as well. We would’ve loved to have him stay on, but I do thank you for the loan of your CMO.” 

Sisko visibly relaxed. “We’re happy to have him back.” After a pause, he said, “In case you were wondering what happened to the Romulan spy you captured, the Praetor demanded her extradition to Romulus.” 

“The Federation has every right to hold a spy who was seeking information on highly classified equipment on board a Starfleet vessel,” Janeway couldn’t help pointing out. 

“In an ideal world, you’d be correct,” Sisko said. “Unfortunately, in this situation, Starfleet’s desire to keep the Romulans as allies against the Dominion outweighed everything else.” 

Janeway frowned. “I’m also troubled by the fact T’Lara managed to infiltrate my crew so easily, not to mention her sabotage endangered our lives. As for letting the Romulans deal with her, well, let me just say that I doubt justice will be served.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Sisko said. “On the other hand, the Tal Shiar doesn’t take failures very lightly; the punishment they inflict could well be harsher than what Federation justice would mete out.” 

“Undoubtedly.” Janeway glanced around the office with approval; though it maintained some of what she considered the excesses of Cardassian architecture, there were enough touches of Starfleet and Earth that made it seem like a comfortable workspace. The large desk took up most of the room. Its surface was bare, other than a computer screen and a small stand upon which resided a small white leather ball with red stitching. “A baseball?” she asked, reaching for it curiously. At Sisko’s nod, she picked it up. 

“Not many people, even Humans, recognize a baseball when they see one,” Sisko said. “How is it that you do?”

Janeway smiled. “I grew up on a farm in Indiana. My parents were staunch Traditionalists, so I’m familiar with the sport.” She examined the baseball more closely, noting the scuff marks on one side, as well as a worn and faded signature. “Is this authentic, or something recently replicated?”

“It’s a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation,” Sisko said. “That ball was used in the last World Series, back in 2042. Buck Bokai, the team captain of the London Kings and hero of the game, allegedly signed it and gave it to my many-times-great-grandfather, Tobias.”

Janeway tossed the ball back to Sisko, who caught it one-handed and placed it back on the stand. “Do you play?” she asked.

“Only in a holosuite,” Sisko said with a smile. “Though I understand there are some settlers on Cestus III who’ve formed a league.”

“My helmsman, Tom Paris, is very interested in twentieth century culture,” Janeway noted. “Though his tastes run more to music, fast cars, and television, than they do to sports.”

“Well, if he’s ever interested in taking up baseball, I can point him in the right direction. We could even get up a game, the next time you dock at the station.”

Janeway found herself liking Sisko. She didn’t have many friends among her peers in Starfleet; she’d been away too long. She hadn’t really known Sisko before except by reputation. Even though their conversation had been a bit stilted at first, she had the sense that, given time, perhaps they could move beyond this awkward politeness and become friends. 

After another pause, Sisko said, “Although it happened while I was on Earth, I understand that your former first officer Chakotay visited the station and spoke to Colonel Kira as part of his crusade to get the remaining Maquis released from prison. She heard him out, but I suspect she was less sympathetic to his cause than he would’ve liked.” Sisko leaned back thoughtfully, unconsciously picking up the baseball once more and began tossing it from hand to hand. “A bit of a quixotic action on his part; he probably would have more success at exonerating the Maquis if _Voyager_ had come back after the war was over, or if he at least waited until public opinion was more likely to turn in his favor.”

Janeway, who had only recently learned - second-hand - of Chakotay’s attempts on behalf of the Alpha Quadrant Maquis, said quietly, “Chakotay is not the kind of man to delay if he feels strongly about something. And I can vouch for his integrity. He’s a good man.”

Sisko nodded, continuing to flip his baseball in the air and catching it. 

“I can’t help but wonder, if you’d been here when Chakotay came by, if you would have given him the time of day,” she said hesitantly. “Your feelings toward the Maquis are well-known, particularly Commander Eddington.” 

“It wasn’t the fact that Eddington was a Maquis that got me seeing red,” Sisko said evenly. “It was his betrayal of the uniform. Cal Hudson also didn’t come clean about his Maquis involvement right away. At least your Chakotay did the right thing and resigned first,” he added, grudgingly. “And by all accounts, he served you well aboard _Voyager_.” 

“As did most of his crew,” Janeway said. She couldn’t help but remember the few who hadn’t. She felt Sisko’s eyes upon her and wondered if he’d guessed her thoughts. “Since you brought up the Maquis, if you don’t mind my asking, what about Kasidy Yates?” she said, referring to Sisko’s long-term companion.

Sisko smiled faintly, and inclined his head, acknowledging her point. “I suspect you know the story about Kasidy’s past as a smuggler for the Maquis, how she helped steal 12 industrial replicators intended for the Cardassians,” he admitted freely. “Then she went on one more run, was set up as a fall guy by those very same Maquis and served a prison sentence for it.” He paused. “And when she was released, I welcomed her back with open arms.”

“How were you able to forgive her?” Janeway asked, thinking of Tighe and his involvement with Section 31. “When her actions ran contrary to everything you believed in?” 

“No one is perfect – not Kasidy, not me,” Sisko said. His hand holding the baseball became still. “She didn’t know at first about the Maquis, she thought she was running supplies to refugees displaced by the war. But even when she did know, she continued to act based on her convictions. While I didn’t agree, I had to respect her for it. I know it wasn’t easy for her.” Sisko sighed. “And now with the Dominion war, the dire predictions of those who had opposed the Cardassian treaty to begin with have been proven right. So few of the Maquis are still alive.”

Janeway nodded, remembering how Chakotay and B’Elanna had reacted upon hearing of the massacre of their friends and compatriots.

Sisko was silent for a long moment. “I’ve also done some things I’m not proud of, but I thought were necessary at the time.” He gave her a piercing look that seemed to reach right inside her. “Everyone’s got flaws, Kathryn, and everyone falls short at times. But they do what they have to do, try to do the best they can.”

“And ultimately live with the consequences,” Janeway murmured.

“Yes.”

The door signal sounded just then. 

“Enter,” called Sisko.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Benjamin,” said Commander Jadzia Dax as she came in, “but Admiral Ross has just arrived.” The tall Trill woman gave Janeway an apologetic smile and then turned back to Sisko. “He wants to meet with you right away.”

Janeway immediately got up. “I won’t intrude on you any longer, Captain.”

“Ben,” he corrected her with a smile as he got to his feet as well. “And it’s not an intrusion.”

“Thank you for your time,” Janeway said as they shook hands. 

“My pleasure.” Sisko glanced down at their hands and his smile broadened. “I’m sure our paths will cross again as part of the war effort.” 

***

Chakotay leaned against the railing on the bridge and stared at the Seine flowing swiftly below. After months of delay and bureaucratic wrangling - and cashing in every favor he had - he’d finally been able to meet with the Federation President and present his plea for the Maquis. Unfortunately, the President had been less than sympathetic; she’d barely heard him out before one of her flunkies had ushered him out, explaining that the President was a busy woman and had many demands on her time. All told, he’d gotten less than five minutes with her, and it took all his will power to keep from giving in to his despair.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” said the man beside him, and Chakotay started in surprise. He hadn’t noticed the man’s approach. “This is a popular tourist spot, but even the natives enjoy coming here.”

Chakotay muttered something non-committal, and then belatedly realized it wasn’t right to take out his frustrations on a random friendly stranger. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“This your first time in Paris?” the man questioned. The sun glinted off his blond hair as he leaned forward, the better to catch a glimpse of the water.

“Actually, it’s not,” Chakotay answered. “But I haven’t been here in many years.”

The man smiled. “Despite the war, it’s still a beautiful city. And fortunately, it hasn’t suffered damage like that sustained in San Francisco, or Dorvan, for that matter.”

Chakotay looked up sharply at that last sentence. “Why do you mention Dorvan?”

“Isn’t that where you’re from, Mr. Chakotay?”

“Do I know you? Who are you?”

The man replied, “I’ve been wanting to meet you for some time, Mr. Chakotay, ever since _Voyager_’s return, in fact.”

“And why is that?” Chakotay asked quietly, his senses alert.

The man spread his hands wide, as if to show he had nothing to hide. “My organization can be of help in your campaign to achieve justice for the imprisoned Maquis.”

“Why do you care? Not many do these days,” Chakotay said, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“Exactly. What you have here is a case of people displaced from their homeworlds, pursued with equal fury by the Cardassians and the Federation, instead of being protected. The Federation turned its back on them, once at the signing of that treaty, and then again when it became clear what the Cardassians intended for them. Which is why today there’s only a handful of Maquis survivors – and they languish in prison.”

“That’s right.” Chakotay found himself adding, “I didn’t think anyone remembered the whole history of how the Federation broke its promise to its own citizens, or even cared about that betrayal. With the war against the Dominion currently raging, it’s easy to forget all about the Maquis.”

“Well, _Voyager_’s dramatic return _did_ briefly return the name ‘Maquis’ to the public consciousness. Of course, if not for the service of you and your compatriots aboard _Voyager_, you might well be sharing their fate.”

“That may well be true.” Chakotay studied the man in silence for a moment. He was of medium build and wore civilian clothing. He didn’t look like a member of Starfleet. “But you haven’t answered my question. What are the Maquis to you?”

“A group of unfortunates, who have suffered unjustly,” the man said, returning his gaze. “I’m part of an organization that is interested, among other things, in rectifying such wrongs. We see the Maquis as victims, and their continued imprisonment as a travesty of justice. We’re dedicated to changing that outcome.”

“I see.”

“We’d be very interested in having you join us. It would be mutually beneficial to us both.”

Chakotay nodded slowly. “I have a few more questions first, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll be glad to answer whatever you want to know.” The man gestured to a café across the way. “Why don’t we get a bite to eat and continue our conversation in more comfortable surroundings?”

Chakotay shrugged. “Why not? Pleased to meet you Mister–” 

“Sloan. My name is Luther Sloan.”

***

Janeway sat in her quarters, a glass of wine in her hand. She took a sip and then put it down. “Computer. Record message.”

She took a deep breath. “Admiral Ross swears this will reach you, although he took care not to tell me your exact whereabouts when I asked. I hope you do see this, because it’s very important.

“I want to tell you I was - _am_ \- wrong. So wrong about so many things, and without realizing it, I fell into the old habits, behaved the same way as I did during our marriage. Expecting you to be someone you’re not, not appreciating you for who you are – or what you do.

“I spent so much time trying to decide if I was falling for you again – wondering if I _should_ let myself fall in love with you - that I wasn’t paying attention to _you_, what you were thinking or feeling. In retrospect, I was surprised – but glad - you seemed to be willing to try again. I certainly didn’t make it easy for you, and in retrospect, I realize I kept sending you mixed signals. God knows, it’s not your fault for not understanding what it was I wanted from you, when I didn’t understand that myself. You let me call the shots, made no demands, but I managed to convince myself that it wouldn’t work and so I shot you down once more. Though I think I may finally understand, at least a little bit, where you’re coming from.

“I realize I may have driven you away for good this time; I know it’s incredibly arrogant of me to ask you to give me another chance when I never gave you a fair chance either time. But I _do_ want that chance, and I’m not going to let Section 31 make up my mind for me.

“With the recent developments in the war, especially with the Breen coming in on the side of the Dominion, I know the odds are against us, even if you were willing to try again. I’m sure you know this, or could easily find out if you wanted to, but _Voyager_ has been assigned to patrol duty in the Kalandra sector, meaning every six weeks or so we’re back in the environs of Deep Space Nine. Just letting you know, in case you do want to contact me.”

She took a deep breath.

“Yours, Kathryn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the background on Sisko's baseball, see my story, "Last Man Out."


	21. Epilogue

Soft music was playing as they slow-danced in the captain’s quarters. Pressing her cheek against his chest, Janeway closed her eyes and felt his arms tighten around her. 

Less than 24 hours ago, _Voyager_ had limped in to Deep Space Nine and settled in for repairs to the damaged right nacelle and phaser-scored hull, which had been incurred in their most recent battle. The routine had quickly become familiar over the past several months; Janeway knew the turnaround would be swift. In fact, _Voyager_ was scheduled to leave again in the morning.

“We’re being hailed, Captain,” said Ensign Goodman, the relief at Ops.

Janeway looked up from the fuel consumption report a yeoman had just handed her. “From the station?” she asked mildly. “Or from a ship in the vicinity?”

“It’s coming from somewhere on Deep Space Nine, but not _from_ the station,” the young ensign said. “What I mean is--”

“Never mind, Ensign, let’s hear it,” Janeway said, biting back a sigh; it seemed to her that her bridge crew was growing younger by the rotation.

“Yes, ma’am,” Goodman said gratefully as he put it on speakers.

“_Voyager_, this is Commander Tighe. Request permission to come aboard.”

At the sound of his voice, Janeway felt her heart leap. It had been a month since she’d sent her message to Tighe via Admiral Ross, and in the weeks-long silence she’d come to the regretful conclusion that the lack of response was his answer. A broad smile appeared on her face as she said, “Permission granted, Commander.” She turned to the helm. “I’m going to greet our guest. Mr. Paris, you have the con.”

Minutes later, she saw him emerge from the airlock. Slightly thinner than the last time she’d seen him, he was in uniform and sporting a full beard instead of the van dyke he’d previously favored. He smiled. “Hello, Kathryn.”

She slapped her comm badge. “Computer, call for a site to site transport to my quarters. Authorization Janeway alpha pi 7.” As soon as they materialized inside her cabin she turned to him. “Justin.” He was moving forward at the same time and bent his head to hers. After a few moments, she broke the kiss. “Welcome, stranger.”

“Sorry for the lack of advance warning,” he said.

“Wanted to make a grand entrance?” she asked archly. “I’m glad to see you, regardless.”

“More of a question of timing,” Tighe said. “I wasn’t sure I would be able to catch up with you at Deep Space Nine.”

“Your timing was pretty good, actually,” Janeway said. “We’re slated to leave in the morning.” She added, “It doesn’t leave us with a lot of time, but I’ve gotten quite skilled at improvising.” 

On her way to the replicator, she called, “Computer, lower lights by 30 percent. Play music assortment ‘Janeway 21.’” At his amused look, she said, “Unless there’s something else you prefer?”

He shook his head. “Whatever you’ve selected is good enough for me.”

Within a few minutes, they were sitting down at the table. 

“More wine?” she asked a short time later.

Tighe shook his head. “I’m good.” He lay down his fork and cocked his head, listening. “I haven’t heard this song for a long time. Not since our wedding, in fact.” 

She smiled. “It’s always been one of my favorites.”

He stood and held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

She gladly stepped into his arms. After their long separation – on the heels of almost losing him permanently – she reveled in the chance to be close to him now.

As the song ended, Janeway looked up to see Tighe gazing at her intently, his emotions clearly readable in their dark green depths. He bent his lips to hers and she twined her arms around his neck as she returned his kiss. The kiss deepened, and she pressed herself against him, feeling her pulse quicken. As things started to get more heated, they moved as one toward the bedroom.

He quickly pulled off his clothes and reached for hers, but she stopped him. “No,” she said. “I want to do it.” She mock-pushed him on the bed. 

He leaned back against the pillows and watched as she did a striptease for him, his interest clearly evident. At last, she was wearing only a black lace demi-bra and thong. At his reaction, she was very glad she'd taken the few extra minutes to stop by her quarters on her way to meet him.

She climbed on the bed and kissed him, then stroked down his chest to his groin. Her hands moved briefly to his thighs, then back up to his penis and scrotum. She bent her head and began licking and sucking him, and then with an abrupt motion, pulled off her lingerie and straddled him. She heard his breath catch in his throat but gave herself up to the experience, concentrating on her own feelings of urgency. Finally, she threw back her head in triumph as they reached their mutual climax. She collapsed next to him on the bed, and he pulled her against him. 

Her breathing not quite returned to normal, she lifted her head from his shoulder. “Justin.”

“Yes?” he said lazily, his fingers stroking gentle but provocative circles across her back.

“I’ve come to a decision.”

Tighe lifted himself on one elbow to better to meet her gaze. “Let me guess.”

“Go ahead.”

“You’ve finally accepted that I’m a flawed human being, and you don’t feel like you have to put me on a pedestal or try to hold me to impossible standards and then be crushed when I inevitably fall short.”

“Uh, yes,” Janeway said, a little put out because she had wanted to be in confessional mode. At the same time, however, she was relieved he was letting her off the hook. “I’m not perfect either.” 

“I know that, Kathryn. I’ve always known,” he said with a faint smile.

“Oh, you!” She shook her head at him in loving exasperation. “Seriously, Justin, I want you to understand that this time I’m going into it with my eyes wide open. I know who and what you are, and I love you.”

He sat up and sighed softly, clearly hesitant to respond in kind.

“You don’t have to say it in return because you think it’s expected.” Janeway held his gaze for a long moment. “I already know how much I mean to you.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” She sat up as well, thinking back again to the casual comment months earlier from one of the engineers involved in the upgrade of the quantum drive, that Tighe had started working on it almost immediately after _Voyager_ had been lost – more than a year before the name ‘Dominion’ had become known to Starfleet. “Despite the end of our marriage, despite each of us becoming involved with other people, you never stopped loving me.” She laid her fingertips across his lips to keep him from interrupting. “How else would you explain your developing the quantum drive for the sole purpose of bringing _Voyager_ home?” 

His silence told her everything.

“And you came all the way to the Delta Quadrant yourself to implement it, to make sure we’d make it back.” Her eyes never left his. “Maybe you haven’t always been the best at communicating, but your actions speak louder than words.”

He drew her into his arms once more, and there was no more talking for a while.

Later, Janeway suddenly became conscious of the passage of time. “When do you have to go?” she asked.

“Very soon,” he admitted. “In fact, there’s a transport I need to catch; it’s due to leave the station in another twenty minutes.”

She slowly nodded and watched as he got up and began to dress. She rose as well and slipped on a robe which she tightly belted, then trailed after him to the main room of her cabin, trying not to dwell on their impending separation, or the uncertainty of their relationship against the continued backdrop of the war.

He paused by the door and turned to look at her. There was so much emotion in his expression - his love for her, joy that she loved him, and his regret at having to leave her. She felt her eyes well up in response.

“We’ll see each other again soon,” she said, making it more a statement than a question.

Tighe smiled. “Count on it.”

The End


End file.
